


just say yes

by roommate



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: M/M, Minor Character Death, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-26
Updated: 2015-01-26
Packaged: 2018-03-09 04:19:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 60,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3235991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/roommate/pseuds/roommate
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>as far as kyungsoo can remember, falling in love with the lead actor isn't part of the script. then again, he's shit at acting. he stays behind the lens for a very good reason. (<b>Warnings:</b> mentions of minor character death by fire, trauma | Written for <a href="http://sooheaven.livejournal.com/34443.html">sooheaven 2015</a>)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Kyungsoo jolts awake to the sound of DBSK's Rising Sun blasting in his ears. He looks around his room, squinting hard when a sudden flurry of light hits him. He'd left his lamp open last night, and while the light isn't bright enough to blind it's still enough to shake off some of the sleep clinging to his eyelids. Enough to pull him out of bed and back on his feet, toes wiggling in his bedroom slippers. Enough for him to boot his brain and for him to register that – one, it's only five in the morning; and two, it's a Saturday.

Choikang Changmin is still singing in the background. Kyungsoo shakes his head, shivers when he feel his stomach give a funny lurch in his stomach. Now it's Xiah Junsu who's belting out.

Someone's calling.

He feels around for his phone, then, hands blindly mapping out a path on the bed. No sign of a solid lump under his pillow, or even at the corners of his bed. There's nothing under his bed, either, aside from an extra pair of slippers. The sound grows louder, though, and by the time Choikang Changmin's singing again, Kyungsoo feels something vibrating in his pocket.

"Fuck," he groans. He rubs his eyes, takes a deep breath, then growls when he sees Baekhyun's name flashing on the screen. At least he knows who to kill now.

If years of knowing Baekhyun is anything to go by, this conversation can go two ways: either Baekhyun has a tiny favor to ask and it's the first thought that occurred to him when he woke up, or Baekhyun desperately needs something from him. Baekhyun knows better than to call at ass o' clock in the morning _especially_ on a weekend, after all. The first time Baekhyun did it, back in university, Kyungsoo picked up after five rings and muttered 'fuck off' even before Baekhyun could say a thing. The second time it happened, Kyungsoo said, 'look, if you don't have anyone else to bug then bug off.' The third– Well, Kyungsoo has already lost track of his opening lines. All he knows is that he never comes off as too scary to ward off prank callers at five in the morning. The most ungodly hour ever, still tiptoeing between night and day.

"Okay. Intro: I need help and you're the only one I know who can do the job," Baekhyun says as soon as Kyungsoo picks up. He blows into the receiver, and Kyungsoo winces a little at the muffled sound. The line is a bit clearer now, though, and Kyungsoo swears he heard a light tremble in Baekhyun's voice when he said 'help'. "Turns out my director just got summoned to court for tax evasion and I don't want bad publicity for the film so would you please, _please_ be my director?"

Kyungsoo blinks twice. Five in the morning also happens to be Baekhyun's golden hour for jokes. It's the only time he's really funny. How can he forget? "Nice joke, bud. But I'm not awake enough for this," he mumbles. He rubs his eyes again and blinks to refocus his vision. Recalibrate. "Go prank call someone else. Call up your boyfriend or something."

"I don't have a boyfriend," Baekhyun says. "And I wish I was kidding so please, Soo – please say yes. C'mon, you're the best director I know."

Bullshit, he wants to say. If he was the best then Baekhyun wouldn't have considered making Jung Jihoon the director, wouldn't have offered him the position. Wouldn't have had to turn Kyungsoo down two weeks ago with a soft and whispered, "Sorry, man, but he's Jung Jihoon. _Jung Jihoon._ " Jung Jihoon is known for his camera-handling in porn films, not his skill in directing a horror movie. There's no such thing as fucking in space and gravity-defying thrusting. The Jung Jihoon-Byun Baekhyun partnership was bound to be a disaster at the very beginning.

And if Baekhyun thought Kyungsoo wasn't the best – or hadn't just realized he was, after that tax evasion issue because Baekhyun knows Kyungsoo won't ever get him into trouble – then he wouldn't be on the phone with him right now.

"For old time's sake?" Baekhyun says. He exhales into the receiver. There's static on the line, so thick that Kyungsoo has to swallow twice to break the white noise. A traitorous cold crawls up his neck, makes him choke on his breath. He swallows that itch down, too. "I can get you a good deal. I'll bring you coffee everyday. _Every-fucking-day,_ morning, noon, and night. Please? Just–" Then Baekhyun stops, makes some weird, gurgling sound on the other end of the line that Kyungsoo interprets as frustration. He's got that sound filed at the back of his mind like a sliver of memory he can retrieve any day, for reference. A year ago, it could've meant, 'I have no words; figure this out for me'. Today, it means, 'Come on, Kyungsoo, stop being so difficult. We were never supposed to be difficult.'

"We have to start filming in two weeks and I _know_ we can't get someone as good as you. You're the only one who can save this production," Baekhyun continues. A heartbeat, then, " _Please?_ Do this? For me?"

And then there it is, Baekhyun drawing the two deadly cards from under his sleeve. The coffee card and 'remind Kyungsoo he has a messianic complex' card have never been a good combination. His losing streak is so bad, it's almost laughable. And Baekhyun's capitalizing on it like the expert player that he is.

"What time."

"What time _what?_ "

"I said–" Kyungsoo scratches the slope of his neck. It leaves a nasty burn, but nothing that hurts too much. "What time do you need me on location?"

Baekhyun makes a faint sound on the other end of the line. It sounds strangely like 'heeh'. "Ten, but we're just doing a run-through of the camera angles in the morning. Then a quick read of the script with the cast at noon."

"After you buy me lunch."

"After I buy you _delicious_ lunch that will keep you happy for the rest of the day, yes," Baekhyun replies. He breathes out into the receiver, but this time the line doesn't crack. Kyungsoo doesn't miss the hitch in Baekhyun's breathing, though, or the relief in the drawl of his 'yes'. "So, you in?"

Kyungsoo shuts his eyes. Opens them to check the time, then shuts them again when a faint giggle escapes Baekhyun's lips. "I'll be there at ten."

"Awesome! You're _the best!_ " Baekhyun makes a shrill, smooching sound. A corner of Kyungsoo's mouth tugs up in response, like stimulus. "I love youuu–"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, then leans back against the headboard. Never mind that he hits the back of his head too hard when he shifts in his seat, when he reaches over to grab a pillow then presses his back against the solid wood again. Never mind that he'd just signed himself up for a year with very little to no rest. The quiver that was once in Baekhyun's voice is now gone, replaced instead by lilts and bouts of laughter as he tells Kyungsoo about the tax evasion case, as he tells Kyungsoo about the way he'd called Jihoon as soon as he heard the news. The way he told Jihoon, 'You're out. I'm dropping you from this project. You're _out,_ ' like an action star in Korea's most recent box office hit.

He tucks his phone between his cheek and his shoulder, and laughs a little when Baekhyun chokes on his words. Baekhyun groans and mumbles 'I hate you', but the laughter in his voice gives him away.

It's all worth it.

ö

Eight in the morning is an ungodly hour to be heading to Gonjiam-eup. Streets are already littered with cars and people bumping into each other every few seconds. On the first five minutes of Kyungsoo's trip to the bus stop, he almost got run over by a bike and two people. The next five, he tripped on his own foot in an effort to not collide into a group of teenagers. There are less people in the station and it's easier to breathe here, but he still has to crane his neck to try to get a whiff of fresh air. Try to boot up his body properly for a 10 a.m. meeting somewhere near a psychiatric hospital or right at the heart of it.

He laughs to himself. He's not even a fan of horror movies, but this is better than all those action thrillers he's been doing for the past two years. The genre can only get so exciting when you've already used up all the tropes in the dictionary. It's not as if he didn't try to suggest new ways to present a thrilling scene or to orchestrate a face-off between rivals. He did, and he had been trying for two whole years to convince the writers to try something different. And those two years met their untimely (or maybe timely) demise when he'd thrown his hands up in the air three months ago, just in time for Baekhyun to make a shout out to the film industry that, "Hey, I'm planning to do some twisted horror movie. It's not everyone's cup of tea."

Kyungsoo likes the feeling of tapping that niche market, that specific group of people who can possibly influence their friends to see that there's something good in this new thing. In a story about people dying in a psychiatric hospital not because they've been killing the staff, the doctors, their only hope. It's the doctors who have been killing them from the inside, and they did what _they did_ as a warning to people.

 _btw i stand by my comment: your script's weird,_ Kyungsoo texts Baekhyun as he flips to the next page. He brought his own copy with him, the same print out that he'd scribbled on three months ago. He still has the sticky note from Baekhyun that says, 'GO WILD I'M EXCITED TO SEE WHAT YOU CAN DO WITH THIS :D'

He peels that off the page and folds it into four. He stuffs it in his wallet, then, and resumes in his reading.

The two-hour roadtrip doesn't feel as torturous with his earphones plugged and his hand busy with scribbling more notes. He's halfway through the last scene when the bus comes to the halt. The conductor stands from his seat to facilitate an orderly descent, and Kyungsoo gathers the things he'd pulled out of his bag during the trip. The crowd stopped following him around as soon as he got to the bus to Gonjiam-eup; he had the entire row to himself.

The pens go inside first, then the script last. He smoothens the creases on the dog ears before zipping up his bag and turning to face front. Then there's the city rush again, this time in a place that's more foreign than most parts of Gyeonggi-do. The last time he was here was in his third year in university, for the shoot of his short film. Baekhyun was his director of photography then; Kyungsoo handled everything else including Baekhyun. Nothing much has changed, though – the vending machine near the ticket booths still doesn't have the classic banana uyuu. The trash cans are still orange instead of the usual green. And Baekhyun still has a habit of standing smack in the middle of a narrow aisle, disrupting the traffic of people going to and from the trains.

"Hey," Baekhyun mouths from a distance. He doesn't wave, just stands there like he's waiting – for the crowd to thin or for Kyungsoo to come closer, Kyungsoo can't tell. So he takes a step forward, and another, and another, until the three long feet between them is trimmed down to six inches. "You look like shit."

"Thanks," Kyungsoo mutters in response. He brings a fist up and grazes his knuckles on Baekhyun's cheek. _Just like old times._ "You look even shittier."

Baekhyun rolls his eyes and presses his lips together. The smile is still there, though, the tug on the corners of his mouth strong enough to reach his eyes. They crinkle at the corners.

"Do it," Kyungsoo says. There's a tickling sensation in his throat. He gives into it and coughs, surfacing with a smile.

Baekhyun breaks out into a grin and envelops him a tight hug.

They take Baekhyun's car to the location. The hospital isn't too far away, but nobody wants to walk long distances at the height of summer. Baekhyun takes the more scenic route, a winding road around town that Kyungsoo remembers from three months ago. There are more trees here, less people, a thicker blanket of white noise versus the steady humming of nature all around them. "So they finally finished the construction for the K-mart in the past three months," Kyungsoo comments, looking out the window. The last time he was here, for the director 'try outs', the walls of the establishment were still the color of cement. And it looked like a giant oven more than anything else. "When I found out that the music you play in your new car is crap. Who even drives a BRZ and plays Justin Bieber songs on loop?"

"Hey, don't diss on J.B.. I like him," Baekhyun groans. His turns on the stereo, then, but doesn't quite reach his iPod. He's craning his neck like he's checking if they're on track. They probably aren't. Baekhyun's shit at directions. "Pick a song. Or a playlist. I still have some of your pretentious, _quality music_ in there."

Kyungsoo shifts in his seat. He's facing Baekhyun now, his back pressed to the door. Baekhyun glances over his shoulder, then drops his hand to Kyungsoo's thigh. He means, 'Seriously, just get the damned iPod and I'll find the way out of this place'.

"Go straight, then take a left," Kyungsoo says. He snatches the iPod from Baekhyun's hand and fixes his eyes on the screen. He can feel the weight of Baekhyun's gaze, though, Baekhyun's eyes narrowing by the second until he's discovered all of Kyungsoo's weak spots. Until he's _rediscovered them._ "You turned a block too early."

Baekhyun snorts. "Why didn't you tell me earlier?"

"You looked so sure of yourself." He settles on a mix of Coldplay and Snow Patrol. He looks up at Baekhyun, then, and meets his gaze. He tries to swallow down the spit gathering at the base of his mouth, but his throat feels tight and dry. So instead, he then runs his thumb along the track wheel and gives the play button a gentle press. "I thought you knew what you were doing."

Baekhyun furrows his eyebrows for a moment, and something flashes in his eyes. Like a split-second of hesitation that reaches the corners of his mouth, twisting them until Baekhyun is frowning. "I have to drive around the area at least ten times to memorize the place," Baekhyun says in defense. He licks his lips, parting them as he does so, then shuts them when Chris Martin starts singing on the radio. The tight corners of Baekhyun's mouth ease into a small smile. "And I've only ever driven around here thrice."

"Took the shuttle service everytime you had to shoot on location?"

"We moved elsewhere," Baekhyun explains. He snatches his iPod from Kyungsoo's tight grip and navigates to the next song. It's Gary Lightbody who's singing this time, and the beat of the song is faster. Easier to bob their heads to. Baekhyun does exactly that. "Yeouido area. There was a change in plot. I revived the old children's hospital script and reworked it."

Kyungsoo shakes his head and sinks in his seat. "Can't believe you revived your script from third year," he mumbles. Baekhyun laughs a little, then, and poises his hand on the gear stick. "You've got to let go."

"It's hard," is all that Baekhyun says. He pushes the gear stick forward, first gear, and they start moving again. Kyungsoo lets out all the air in his chest in a long exhale up until Lightbody transitions to the chorus, until Baekhyun starts singing along. He knows the words by heart, doesn't even bat an eyelash when the song transitions to the bridge. Baekhyun's voice soars above the backing track, the engine noise, the storm in Kyungsoo's stomach.

Kyungsoo snaps his seatbelt in place and grips it tight. He looks at road ahead and thinks, this is going to be a long ride.

ö

Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital looks creepy enough on paper. The first time Kyungsoo heard about it and saw pictures was back in high school, when he had to report in front of the class in fulfillment of his history lecture requirements. Some rooms in the third and fourth floors were found burning, but the fire never spread to the other parts of the hospital. They were contained there, within the four corners of the room, like fate had somehow chosen who to let die and who to let live. In the end, it was the smoke that made it impossible to rescue the patients and the staff. Then the hospital was closed and never rebuilt again. The first three months after the incident, everyone who passed by the area said they'd seen a little boy wandering up and down the hill. Heard him saying, "Go away–"

He feels a twig snap under the pressure of his feet, and he jerks back to reality. To where he is _right now,_ just fresh from a hike up a rather steep hill just to reach the hospital proper. Even from the outside, he can already make out the stark difference between the walls of the rooms that were consumed in the fire and those that weren't. The edges of the curtains peeking from the windows are burnt to a crisp. There's a stuffed toy on the ledge three windows from the front. He shivers a little, then digs his hands deep in his pockets. Baekhyun has always been good at spotting the perfect location for a film, taking whatever emotions it already brings and amplifying it tenfold.

"The best part is that someone left the gates open," Baekhyun calls out from over his shoulder. He gestures for Kyungsoo to come closer, and Kyungsoo complies. The barbed wires have been cut and bent, facing one direction, to create a hole big enough for a person to fit in. It's almost as if someone tried to break in haphazardly, not minding the stories surrounding the hospital. Or maybe someone was running away from lies and was hoping to find the truth in the hospital. "It sorta keeps getting bigger everyday, the hole. We haven't touched anything yet, really. Makes me think that there's some weird life form in here."

Kyungsoo leans back, then looks to his side just in time to catch the light tremble of Baekhyun's lips. He shakes his head. "You're such a scaredy cat. I don't even know why you're doing this to yourself."

"It's exciting," Baekhyun replies, grinning. "Plus, I like the adventure. The… what do you call that…" He massages his chin, then continues, "The _uncertainty._ " He has his eyes narrowed, lips upturned in a funky twist, like he's plotting something that Kyungsoo will regret. It's not as if he doesn't have a lot of regrets already; at the top of the list: not being able to say 'no' to Byun Baekhyun.

"You're being dramatic."

"I'm embracing my inner masochist. Deal with it." Baekhyun grabs Kyungsoo by the arm and pulls him closer. "Stick close by. You don't want to get lost in a haunted hospital."

"You just don't want to go looking for me if I do get lost."

"That, too." Baekhyun snorts. "Especially not at night. We'll need to get the lights inside for the evening shoot. No way in hell am I–"

Something comes crashing down to the floor just a few feet away. The ground gives a light shake, and Baekhyun's grip on him tightens. Kyungsoo looks around, then, surveying the area for any sign of movement. The rows of desks shuffled to the sides of the room are still. The chandelier above them isn't moving. The big hall is sickeningly quiet and the air around them is so thick – with the stink of decay and dust and fear. The only thing that's keeping him in check is Baekhyun's cool fingers around his wrist and the scent of apples in Baekhyun's hair.

"You got clearance to shoot here, right?" He can hear a few pebbles falling to the ground. _Jesus,_ the ground hasn't stopped shaking yet. They're just light tremors, but they're strong enough to make his knees shake. Baekhyun is shaking, too. He can feel it in the tight press of their bodies, in the way Baekhyun's knees bump against the back of his own, in the way Baekhyun's pulse beats strongly against his skin. "From the government and the church or something?"

Baekhyun makes a choked sound at the back of his throat that sounds a lot like, 'yeah, but–' But the door at the far end of the hall is swinging open _from the other side,_ and if Kyungsoo squints harder he'll see that there's no shadow seeping through the narrow space between the door and the floor and–

"Whoops," comes a voice. Kyungsoo holds his breath, but leans closer as sunlight spills inside the room from the door. He can make out a hazy figure by the door, wisps of white slowly gaining a more solid form until he's seeing a pair of feet, hairy legs, and plaid shorts. Then fingers that make up what strangely looks like human hands. The figure moves forward, a step closer to them, and the trembling of Baekhyun's body comes to a gradual standstill. "I know you told me not to go exploring on my own but I was hoping to get into character–"

"Jesus–" Baekhyun groans, grumbles, curses under his breath. "I'm gonna give you a different character and turn you into a ghost–"

"That's a really bad joke."

"And you broke the only rule that I imposed on everyone: _no roaming the location unless we're shooting or practicing._ " Baekhyun cracks his neck. "I made myself very clear."

Kyungsoo pulls away at the sound of Baekhyun drawling his last sentence like a warning, but Baekhyun keeps him in place with trembling hands. His fingers are no longer cold and the tension in his cheeks has eased, but his eyebrows are now in a tight knot. His lips are pursed and chapped and too red. Kyungsoo can make out the spot of red blooming where Baekhyun had worried his bottom lip too much. He lays his palm flat on Baekhyun's hand and Baekhyun's grip loosens automatically.

"I'm sorry," the creature-who's-actually-human whispers. "I didn't break anything, I promise. I just… wanted to get into character early for today's script reading."

"You really didn't break anything?"

"Well." The man chews on his bottom lip. Kyungsoo blinks, refocusing his vision, and settles his gaze on the small upward curve of the corners of the man's mouth. The man's lips part just a little, and out comes a sliver of laughter. Choked breath. A faint giggle. Kyungsoo's stomach lurches. He needs his damned coffee. "I accidentally jammed my foot into one of the lamps lying around. In my defense, I was looking at where I was going but then I heard someone come in and I sort of panicked–"

Baekhyun scoffs. " _Sort of panicked._ "

"I was startled."

"Scared," Kyungsoo says, then clears his throat. The man's lips quirk up in response – one corner pulling up faster than the other, like he's still deciding whether he should smile or not. Kyungsoo lets his gaze trails south, down the man's legs and then the torn sneakers. One of his toes is poking out. The sides are a bright shade of red. "You might want to get that checked."

"Oh yeah? I–" The man looks down and wiggles his toe a little before wincing. "Nah, I'll live. Besides, script reading starts in a few."

"Script reading's after lunch, dumbass. Prod set up is in the morning. I made it clear _in the email,_ " Baekhyun mumbles. He disentangles himself from Kyungsoo, then, fingers coming off from the tight circle around Kyungsoo's wrist. Kyungsoo's skin burns a bright shade of red. He can still feel the sting of Baekhyun's touch, the tremble of Baekhyun's fingers against the back of his hand. The way Baekhyun's nails dug into him, too, leaving freckles of crescents on is skin.

Baekhyun looks to his side, then drops his gaze to Kyungsoo's wrist. He reaches out for it and rubs his thumb along the red mark. The burn just stings all the more. "You never read anything properly, don't you? Aren't you supposed to be the book club president or something?"

"I do," the man says. He walks over to where they are, wobbling a little. His lips are supposed to be turned down to a scowl, but he still looks as if he's caught in a crossfire between pleasure and pain. "I just prefer to come in early. You know how long it takes me to get into character."

"Yeah. A million years," Baekhyun says, then moves closer to the man halfway. His shoulders are slumped forward, and the stretch of his body spells surrender. He snakes an arm around the man's shoulder and pulls him close, ruffling his hair when their bodies align. "O–kay, arm around my waist, now, just like old times. Lemme carry you to the castle, princess–"

 _Just like old times–_ Kyungsoo feels his eyebrow twitch a little. He inches forward, nonetheless, one step closer to match the man and Baekhyun's forward motion. He spots a gash along the man's calf once their shoulders bump. Nothing serious, but it's bright enough to draw attention to whoever cares to observe. The tremor of their collision is light, almost easy to miss, but the man clutches at his sleeve at the first brush of their knuckles and pulls him closer as if in a plea for help. Almost like magnets of opposite poles or bees to honey. Kyungsoo's stomach does a tiny tumble.

"Thanks. My balance is shit and so is Baekhyun's," the man mumbles. He chokes somewhere towards the end, just before his knees give away and stops dead in his tracks. "Okay, so that was worse than I thought. I actually jammed my foot into the lamp and tripped over it–"

"Jongdae."

"But the lamp is mostly in one piece. It is! No harm done to the set!" The man explains. He moves around to the best of his ability, socking Baekhyun in the gut with his elbow until his knees give him another warning. "Just… take me somewhere where I can sit."

'Somewhere I can sit' is at the back, where the production team's tent is. It's a nice and empty grass field, and at the far right end of the area are nine, ten monoblock chairs arranged in an arc. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath when the wind blows, leans in to the gentle caress of the breeze. The air is cool, almost reminiscent of spring. It's fresh, rife with life unlike the way it had been inside the haunted hospital. The thick, putrid scent that was following them around had finally dropped dead at the doorstep. It's almost as if they've been transported to a different world as soon as they stepped outside the hospital.

"Okay, that's good," the man – Jongdae, Kyungsoo corrects himself – says. He tries to reach for another chair but falls short, so Kyungsoo helps him with it and props his injured foot it. "Thanks, man. And sorry for the scare earlier. I… really didn't mean to."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows. He leans closer, just a few good centimeters forward, and studies the gentle swell of Jongdae's lips some more. It looks strangely familiar, like he'd seen it before – in an actual full length action movie or maybe one of those feature films back in college. Or maybe one of those quick and dirty porn videos that Baekhyun conned him into watching. 'Sharing porn is caring,' he still remembers Baekhyun telling him back then, back pressed to the headboard. It was finals week at school and the final render of his thesis was due in 36 hours. Baekhyun had a similar problem, but had one hand in his pants and the other steadying the laptop on his thigh. 'Soo, seriously, you need to get off sometimes–' A loud gulp, and then a question: 'do you need help?'

Jongdae darts out his tongue to purse his lips, then chews a bit on his bottom lip. Kyungsoo leans back, then, draws his shoulders back. The dull popping of his bones is a bit comforting.

Behind him, Baekhyun laughs a little. "Don't castrate him. We'll need our lead actor for this film to work. His screaming prowess is _top-notch._ "

Jongdae snorts. "Pretty sure I didn't get the role for the screaming talent because you guys wouldn't let me scream."

"You sound screechy half the time." Baekhyun massages his ears, then frowns. "Having to put up with your silly face for five months is enough torture."

"Our _lead actor?_ " Kyungsoo goes back to that statement, a snippet of what Baekhyun said earlier. People in production arrive on time, sometimes early, but actors rarely arrive two hours before the grind. In his two years of directing films, he's never had any experience with an actor who's professional enough to arrive a few minutes before schedule to allow for preparations. Not even the big names in the industry show up on location hours ahead of schedule and with a big smile, to boot.

"That's me!" Jongdae says, waving one hand in the air. He does that thing with his lips again where half of his mouth is stuck between two emotions. Kyungsoo etches that image at the back of his mind. For reference, he tells himself, because directors need to have the quirks of his talents' faced memorized like the back of his hand. Directors have to know their talents inside and out. And he'd clocked in at work the moment he stepped inside Baekhyun's car. "I may not look like it but I'm a pretty damn good actor. What did that review say again? Hey Baek, wasn't it– 'The way he portrays fear and relays it through his facial expressions is a thing–'"

"–you should fear. It's revolting," Baekhyun finishes. He turns around and rummages through his backpack, then returns with rubbing alcohol. He drizzles Jongdae's toe with it. Or tries to, at least, because Jongdae keeps moving his foot that Baekhyun ends up spilling a generous amount of antiseptic on the monoblock. Baekhyun manages to nail the side of Jongdae's toe, though, but that's as good as it gets. Jongdae is agile, quick to react to every jerk of Baekhyun's body like he's had Baekhyun's actions memorized like the back of his hand.

'Agile' is a good trait to have for an actor.

"Fucking _ow,_ " Jongdae groans, then curls in on himself. He hasn't stopped trying to shake off Baekhyun's hold on his ankle yet, but his movement has slowed down a little. "Y'know, if this were a zombie film, I'd totally turn to the dark side now and eat your brain–"

"If he has one," Kyungsoo comments, then slides a hand down Jongdae's back. He remembers his mother doing when he was still a kid, when she'd coax her into drinking cough syrup or sitting still as she applied Betadine on his wounds. He remembers it from somewhere, too. A decade or so ago? When he was still a kid? There's a distant memory of the gesture at the very back of his mind, but a clear image of the memory escapes him. The gesture stuns Jongdae, makes him wheeze, makes him freeze. Kyungsoo can feel it in the weird fit of their bodies, in the way Jongdae grips him by the knee and shakes him. A feeble shake. "Give me the alcohol–"

Jongdae grumbles. "I thought you were on my side–"

"He's on my side. I've known Kyungsoo longer." Baekhyun reaches over and uncaps the bottle before handing it over. "I dunno if that's a blessing or a curse. Right now, it's a blessing."

"I'm pouring alcohol into your eyes."

"Kidding, Soo! You've _always_ been a blessing–"

"Wait. Kyungsoo?" Jongde asks, looking up from where he's curled himself up into a tiny cocoon. He looks up at Baekhyun, then draws his gaze to lock onto Kyungsoo's own. "Kyungsoo, right?"

Kyungsoo gulps hard. He blinks a few times, refocusing, and meets Jongdae's gaze. From where he is, he can only see the light furrow of Jongdae's eyebrows, the way Jongdae scrunches his nose when the wind blows, the length of Jongdae's eyelashes and how sunlight catches on them. For a moment, he thinks he sees something in Jongdae's eyes. A flash of _something_ he can't pinpoint just yet, but then he doesn't know Jongdae. They've just met in this haunted hospital. Kyungsoo's supposed to be doing dummy shots with his phone and Jongdae isn't even supposed to be here until one in the afternoon. They're supposed to be working with each other, not caught in a weird tangle of gazes. So Kyungsoo squeezes the bottle tight, aims alcohol straight to the bright red scar along the side of Jongdae's big toe and watches as Jongdae throws his head back when he scowls.

"Sorry," he mumbles later, once Jongdae has stretched out again and is slumped in his chair. Jongdae pops one eye open in response and quirks up a corner of his lip. There's still a question, though, in the way he holds Kyungsoo's gaze, in slow upward curl of Jongdae's lips before they fall open to reveal bright teeth.

He tears his eyes away from Jongdae's face and focuses on his toe, instead. It burns the brightest, angriest shade of red.

ö

The swelling has already died down by the time the staff finishes setting up the tent. Baekhyun's busy attending to the caterers, showing them to where they can set up the buffet table, while Jongdae makes himself comfortable in his seat. Kyungsoo cranes his neck, and from where he is behind the camera he can see Jongdae wiggling his toe. When Jongdae winces, he laughs a little then looks back into the viewfinder when Jongdae looks up.

He puts the lens on manual focus and zooms in, left of Jongdae's face. He can see the ghost of a dimple on Jongdae's cheeks, the sharp dip of the bridge of his nose, the crinkles at the corners of his eyes. The way Jongdae's eyelashes flutter when he blinks and–

"The actors are here," comes Baekhyun's voice from behind. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder and nods, then pulls away from the camera. He remembers to put it back on auto-focus.

They have lunch with the cast before they delve into script reading. Baekhyun introduces him to everyone in the best, most creative way possible – "This is Do Kyungsoo, your lord and your king. You shall treat him with respect. You shall fear him and submit to all his whims and–" There's a thick blanket of silence, then, broken only by Baekhyun's light giggles and the amused sound Jongdae makes at the back of his throat. The guy in front who's supposed to be Jongdae's younger brother in the film – Sehun, if he remembers the guy's name correctly – presses the back of his hand to his lips. The girl beside him – Sunyoung? The volunteer who's able to reach Jongdae through finger painting? – lets out a faint 'hah' loud enough for Kyungsoo to catch.

"And those who bow down to me shall be treated with much fondness and affection," Kyungsoo continues. Baekhyun snorts, laughs through his nose, then nods in agreement. "Which more or less translates to less takes and more food. The food to be served during shoots isn't my call, by the way." He nudges Baekhyun in his side, then snakes an arm around Baekhyun's shoulder. "He's your go-to for good food."

" _Go-to?_ " Baekhyun whispers in his ear, then turns to the cast with a grin. "You're really calling me their 'go-to' and not their valiant knight?"

"You're the cinematographer. You make everyone look good."

"We're a team. You're the king and I'm your knight, sworn to protect you at all costs." Baekhyun turns to his side, meeting Kyungsoo's gaze. "And I still owe you coffee, shit. Americano, right? No Splenda or any of those sweeteners and stuff?"

Kyungsoo shifts a little in his position. The fit of their bodies feels too secure, too familiar. The last time he stood beside Baekhyun like this – shoulder-to-shoulder, elbows bumping – was when they presented their thesis to the panel of film critics. They did a feature on a hidden gem north of the country, just near the border of South Korea. Or at least that was one part of it, because the second part of the video they created was a film set in the same city. It was a mix of horror and action. Two kids who've grown up together, in the quiet company of the sea and neighboring Seoraksan. The kid named 'Kyungsoo' had superhuman powers. His best friend, 'Baekhyun'... Well, he wanted to develop gadgets that could help Kyungsoo become the greatest hero Sokcho-si has ever known.

The horror part came in the form of Baekhyun skidding down the slopes of Seoraksan and falling off a cliff. The action was in Kyungsoo letting go of the rock he was clinging onto and diving headfirst to save Baekhyun's life.

And the last time Baekhyun, this Baekhyun right beside him and not the Baekhyun who helped him awaken his powers in the film, bought him coffee was when Baekhyun _almost_ wiped out the hard drive where the back up of their thesis was stored. That was two, almost three years ago. He's been adding one pack of Splenda to his Americano ever since.

"Yeah, Americano," he whispers right back. He takes a deep breath, then faces front. He tries to wear his best smile. "Everybody's done with their meal? We're all set to do a run-through of the script?"

The collective nodding makes a shiver crawl down his spine. He hasn't done script reading in a _century._ He's been working with the same cast, the same set of people his entire career that he doesn't need to make sure that they'll deliver their lines how he wants them to.

Baekhyun pinches him in his side and cocks both eyebrows at him. "Ready, big shot?"

Kyungsoo nods. He balls his hands into fists, tightening his grip on his own self until he can feel his nails digging into his skin. "I'm ready."

ö

When Baekhyun said earlier that this team he's working with are professionals who are 'anal as fuck', he wasn't kidding.

Minseok definitely sounds like the all-knowing yet understanding doctor that he should be. It's not only in his voice; it's also in the way he scrunches his nose, the way he controls the muscles in his face like he – like his _character_ is struggling with trying to explain the whole logic behind Jongdae's character's condition and trying not to sock Joonmyun in the gut for having so many questions. Joonmyun's acting is effortless. Even 'off-cam' or outside of practice, he sounds like the overeager kid who wants to know about every little thing. "If you could try to sound less... Less excited and more _curious,_ " Kyungsoo says when Joonmyun turns to Minseok for their dialogue. Joonmyun says some of his lines, facial expressions and all, then turns to Kyungsoo, seeking validation. "Yes, that's good. The doctors are good."

"We came from KAIST. Of course, we're good," Minseok answers, then laughs a little. Joonmyun rolls his eyes but doesn't forget to land a light jab on Minseok's arm. Then Minseok assumes his character again, wearing his doctor shoes and glasses as he says, "I will take note of this in your evaluation, Kim Joonmyun."

"His name's Kim Dongryul!" Baekhyun calls out from behind Kyungsoo. He plops down on the seat beside him, then presses something warm to Kyungsoo's arm. "Sorry. Got a bit lost. Turns out the closest Starbucks is just one block away and not two."

Kyungsoo looks to his side and catches sight of whipped cream. "You mean, you couldn't decide which frappe to get."

"Weeell–" Baekhyun shrugs, then poises the straw between his lips. "That, and I really got lost."

"Not even surprised," Kyungsoo replies. He tilts his head to the side and bumps it against Baekhyun's own in a light nudge. To the cast, he calls out, "The siblings are up next."

Sehun gets up from his seat, stretching his arms overhead. Jongdae follows suit, half-hopping and half-walking as he makes his way to the front. His chin is tilted up, head held high at first, but soon his shoulders slump back and his eyebrows furrow in a knot. The corners of his lips are tight, and when he looks back up at Kyungsoo his gaze is sharp yet empty. Like he's feeling everything and nothing at the same time and he doesn't know how to deal with.

Sehun grips his script in one hand and reaches out to tug at the hem of Jongdae's shirt with the other. His expression has changed, too, from casual disinterest to lips pressed in a tight frown and eyebrows slanted. His eyes are glimmering in the summer heat. His lips are _quivering._

"Hyung, come on. Stop– Stop closing yourself off and withdrawing from the world." He gives Jongdae's shirt a tug, and another, and then another, until his voice cracks and his chest starts heaving. "We can help, hyung. We _want_ to help! We... We got through the accident together, right? It's just you and me now, hyung–"

Kyungsoo leans closer, tilting his head to get a slightly different view of the two. Sunlight hits Sehun's cheek in a brash manner, almost washes him out and makes him squint so hard it almost looks as if he's about to cry. "You don't know what I've been through, Junsu," Jongdae says. "You don't _know_ what umma and appa made me go through–"

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows a little. The shift in Jongdae's expression is too quick, the crack of his voice opening up too many channels for emotion to seep through. "How many horror-drama movies has Jongdae done?" Kyungsoo asks, leaning closer to Baekhyun. He waits for a response, but Baekhyun is much too engrossed in chewing his straw while digesting the dialogue to even reply. "I said, how many movies of the same genre has Jongdae done?"

"One of each? He never sticks to just one," Baekhyun answers. His voice drops to a whisper as Jongdae shucks off Sehun's hand with a wave of his arm. "He's better at romcoms though. Or at least when he was doing them way, way back. He's... sort of overacting this part. It's in character but something doesn't seem right?"

"He's getting too... in character."

"That's supposed to be a good thing."

"I mean–" Kyungsoo drops his script to his thighs and props his chin on his hands. "He may be drawing emotions from the wrong channel. He can't... compartmentalize and reroute his other emotions so it looks as if he's overdoing it."

Baekhyun shifts in his seat, then leans back until he's facing Kyungsoo. His lips are pursed, bottom lip jutted out, but the movement of his lips is unreadable. Like he, himself, can't decide how to express himself in both words and actions or even the slightest quirk of his lips. "You learned that while directing action movies?" Baekhyun asks after a while, long after Jongdae's line has passed, and Kyungsoo only glances at him from a corner of his eye. "Because I don't recall ever studying that in school."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow in response and shrugs. He tightens the clasp of his hands and feels the rough pads of his fingers scratch his skin. Yes, he wants to say – he learned it on the job, while he was studying every shift of the muscle in the human body, the slightest movement of the lips or the nose of even the way the corners of the eyes crinkle. Muscle movement is the foundation of action movies. _Good_ action movies, at least, because movements are exaggerated in the cheap ones made directors who want nothing but to earn money out of art.

That's not how movies are supposed to be, though. Film is the extension of life, in the same way that art is an expression of one's innermost thoughts. So the most subtle upward tug on the corners of the lips or the twitch of the eye and the nose – those mean a lot. And the way Jongdae unlocks his jaw as he takes a deep breath – that speaks and awful lot that's not part of the script. This isn't part of the movie.

It's part of who _Jongdae,_ not Junsu's brother, is, something the audience isn't supposed to know.

"Jongdae," Kyungsoo begins, raising his hand to call the actor's attention. Jongdae's body gives a violent jerk, and it takes him a few blinks before he resurfaces. Then he's smiling again. It doesn't quite reach his eyes this time. "The arm gesture is great, but can you chop up your words some more? Or space them out?" He pushes himself off his seat then walks over to where Jongdae is. He scores a line along Jongdae's part, then, and taps his finger on the script. From a corner of his eyes, he can see the light quiver of Jongdae's lips, can feel the tiny puff of breath that escapes his lips when he puckers them up. "I need to see more of the struggle and less of the actual emotions. Remember, you're having trouble expressing yourself. You can't even figure out your own emotions yet. You'll have to take more time to peel off the layers."

Kyungsoo looks to his side, studying Jongdae's features. Jongdae meets his gaze, though, raises his eyebrows a bit when their eyes lock onto each other. His shoulders rise in tandem with his sharp intake of breath. His lips fall open in a small 'o', then he's leaning back and nodding. Putting some space between them and allowing Kyungsoo the chance to breathe.

"Alright, I'll do that," Jongdae says, voice as steady as the ground. There's no question in his movements, no hesitation in the way he pulls his shoulders back then cracks his neck. None of the character he'd slipped into just a few seconds ago, not even in the drawl of his words. "Anything else you want me to do?"

"Grab a glass of water," Kyungsoo says. He cocks his head in the direction of the buffet table. "Your throat's dry. I can hear it in your voice."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Got it, boss."

The session resumes five minutes later, after a quick bathroom break and once Kyungsoo has made sure that Jongdae has already some water. When Jongdae assumes his place in front, a good fourteen inches from where Kyungsoo is, he slips back into character, sheds his own skin and wears that of Junho's. Sehun balls his hands into fists and runs through his lines under his breath.

Jongdae presses his lips together, parts them with a dull pop, again and again to the rhythm that he bobs his head to. Then he looks up, gives Kyungsoo a curt nod then mouths, "I'm ready."

"Action," Kyungsoo mutters under his breath. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae.

ö

They pack up just before sunset. Kyungsoo stops in his tracks before they leave the backyard, then whips out his phone from his pocket. This image might come in handy – the hospital against the orange backdrop, the way the warm light spills onto the off-white walls of the building and blends with the burn marks. He can picture it now in his head, the scene where Jongdae and Sehun escape from the building. They'd be standing right here, right where he is at the moment, gandering at the sight of the burning hospital. Then Sehun would grip Jongdae by the wrist if he so much as moved and tried to rush back inside to save the others–

'We're saving them from the cruelties of the world outside. This world,' he still remembers Sehun saying. Sehun had delivered the line earlier with so much emotion that Kyungsoo shivered in thoughtless response.

"We'll have more of those tomorrow. Or on the next shoot day," comes a familiar voice. Kyungsoo brings his hands down to his sides and slips his phone back in his pocket. The burst shot option is a thing of beauty when you're running out of time to take a picture at a good angle. Fuck perfect framing and the rule of thirds. He looks over his shoulder, then, and laughs a little when he spots Jongdae nearby. "It doesn't change."

"It looks different," he begins as he makes his way down. The slope is steep, but nothing he can't tread. He makes use of the trees around them, then, holds onto them for support. How did the production crew even get the things down from the top of the hill? "The sun won't hit the building the same way tomorrow. Those birds won't pass by again if I postpone taking the picture." He stutters in his steps a little when the ground loosens up beneath his feet. He grips the tree trunks on either side of him tight. Sorry, Mother Nature. "It won't be the same."

Jongdae snorts. "If you keep fretting about the details, you really will miss the point of the sunset." He reaches out, arm extended in Kyungsoo's direction, and pulls him close by his shirt just in time for the ground to give away under Kyungsoo's weight. "See? Even the spirits agree."

Kyungsoo frowns. "There are no spirits here in Gonjiam Psychiatric," he declares. Baekhyun said so earlier – they got clearance to shoot so that means the place is free of any create or being that can get in the way of work. He hadn't felt any ghosts hovering them the whole time they were there. He didn't _see_ a ghost in the hospital anywhere, even after he and Baekhyun went around to scan the whole place to check for nice camera angles. "If there were, I'd feel it."

"Oh yeah? You can see ghosts?"

"I can _feel_ them," he mutters. He looks down at the link between them, at Jongdae's fingers curled into a fist in his shirt, then Jongdae's red toe sticking out from his slippers. "Can you go down in those?"

"I'll be okay," Jongdae says, shrugging. There's a split-second of indecision, though, in the way his eyebrows furrow a little, in the way his lips move from side to side like he's still looking for the right words. Looking for the right place where he can slot his hands in or wrap his fingers around. "Actually, I think I need help. The ground's too soft. We might fall down the hill and–"

"I get it," Kyungsoo whispers. He holds out his arm in Jongdae's direction, then says, "Hold onto me."

Jongdae looks up at him, blinking several times before acknowledging him with a nod. The pads of his fingers are cold, but not cool enough to leave a stinging sensation on Kyungsoo's skin. If anything, it tickles, sends a shiver running down Kyungsoo's spine. He shakes it off with a crack of neck, with a tight clench of his fists until he can feel his nails dig into his skin. The pressure stirs his insides, makes his blood flow faster, makes the oxygen in his system travel in dizzying circles in his head until he has to stop in his tracks. It's silly. It's just the fatigue and summer at work. Let it go, he tells himself. You're just tired, Kyungsoo. _Let it go._

"You alright?" Jongdae asks as they continue they journey south. Kyungsoo nods in response. The last time he had coffee was six hours ago. Maybe the caffeine leaving his system is partly to blame.

Baekhyun invites them for dinner at a samgyupsal place just three blocks away. They take the straightforward path, the less scenic one that's lined with cars and red lights and people. Most of the actors have already left, saying that they have previous commitments because, "Baekhyun, it's a Saturday night. Who doesn't have plans on a Saturday night?"

"People who value work above everything else. Nothing wrong with working a little extra to produce something beautiful, yeah?" Baekhyun replied then. Kyungsoo remembers Baekhyun swinging his arm back, locking them behind him and stretching, then stopping in his tracks all of a sudden. The result? A chain of collisions, his chest pressed to Baekhyun's back and Jongdae almost tripping over Baekhyun's outstretched leg. Jongdae's fingers wound around his wrist for support, to keep himself from toppling over. Part of himself recalling this from years ago – the warm fit of Baekhyun's body in his arms and the way Baekhyun sort of leans into him. Only 'sort of', because the back of his thighs quiver against Kyungsoo's own. This means Baekhyun's holding back, still feeling around to check for the missing pieces of the puzzle.

It's been years since they last did this. They've grown up and grown apart. They're tired and hungry and still low on caffeine at seven in the evening. _Let it go, Kyungsoo–_

"So..." comes Baekhyun's voice from beside him. They've been walking for close to ten minutes now. The restaurant should be close by. Kyungsoo looks to his side, then, and tilts his head a little as if urging Baekhyun to go on. "How's the staff? The cast? You like 'em so far?"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. 'Like' is an understatement for how he felt earlier while working with Baekhyun's team and the cast that Jung Jihoon handpicked with him. The staff is efficient, works without fussing over the smallest things. The members are quick to read situations, and even quicker to react to them. He would have gotten Coke all over his white shirt if one of the staff didn't reach out to tilt the glass he was drinking from the other way. Baekhyun would have landed on his ass if his assistant didn't grab him by the back of shirt to keep him from falling. It would have taken longer for them to figure out where to move the buffet area because one of the tables gave away if the team didn't bring extras. So really, he doesn't just 'like' them. He's _floored._ This is, admittedly, the best team he's worked so far.

"They're good," Kyungsoo replies after a while. Baekhyun nudges him in his side. It doesn't hurt. At best, it just leaves a dull ache in his muscles. "I said, they're good. It's too early to tell. But from what I've seen, I can tell that it will be great working with them."

"You and Jongdae seem to be getting along well."

Jongdae's walking a few steps behind them, fingers curled into a loose fist around Sehun's arm. Earlier, when they were going down the hill, that was him and Kyungsoo. "He's easy to work with."

"He's flexible," Baekhyun adds. "Receptive to feedback, too. I don't think I've encountered anyone who's had problems with him. Sehun, however–"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. Sehun almost threw a fit earlier when Kyungsoo made him deliver the same line for the fourth time. "He's okay, too. Needs a bit more energy, but he's okay for a rookie."

"Says the rookie director," Baekhyun teases.

"Only in horror," Kyungsoo replies, then sticks his tongue out. He takes a few steps away, well outside of Baekhyun's perimeter. Baekhyun snarls, then reaches out to pinch him in his sides. "What is _wrong_ with you, I just–"

"Look out!"

He sees two pairs of arms reach out for him, two different fists clutching onto him by the wrist and pulling him back. He can't make out the faces; the light behind him, bright and glaring, has made it hard to discern the details of their features. He hears the sound of horns from behind him, the sound of two familiar voices drawing closer with each passing minute that he gets pulled out of the light. So he closes his eyes – until the light behind his fades into shadows, until his body feels as if it's been put together again and no longer ripped from the soul that controls him. Until he hears Baekhyun saying, "Jesus, fuck– Kyungsoo, I am _not_ paying for your insurance–" Until he sees the familiar curl of the corners of Jongdae's mouth and feels the cool pads of his fingers on his skin.

When Jongdae asks him a second time if he's alright, this time in the dark, he finds the right words to say but chokes them down. _I could be. Maybe._

ö

Kyungsoo's earliest memory of getting into an accident is when he was five. He was playing alone in the playground near their house then, running around the lot before climbing up the stairs so he could take the slide back down. Climbing the stairs for the twenty-fifth time, he corrected a voice at the back of his mind then. He'd been keeping track since he got off the swing and walked past the see-saw. The last time he played here – a few days ago, give or take – someone walked up to him to play with him after he climbed the stairs for the twentieth time. They rode the see-saw, took turns taking the slide down to the ground, and even tried to 'climb' the slide. Did it for hours on end. He could still remember the smile on that kid's lips – a shy upward curl of the lips that reached his eyes. And he had tiny eyes that often disappeared behind the curls of his bangs.

It was silly even for a five-year-old like Kyungsoo, but it was the first time he'd played with anyone but himself. Seungsoo was busy with school and his older, cooler playmates. His parents were hardly around, always in transit from one country to another. Nobody wanted to play with strange little Do Kyungsoo. Everyone else wanted to play with everybody but weird, 'creepy-eyed' Do Kyungsoo. It was just him and his shadow. Him and his imagination.

He slid down the slide for the twenty-fifth time. There still wasn't anyone in sight, no hint of the kid who played with him days ago. He climbed the stairs again in the hope that the kid would come.

So when he heard the honk of a car horn a few feet away, he perked up and looked around. Another honk and Kyungsoo looked over his shoulder. Three honks in succession, then Kyungsoo was hit by the bright headlights. Blinded. Stunned to the point that he couldn't bring himself to slide down. The car was picking up pace and the tires were screeching and the engine gave out the most violent cry.

Kyungsoo closed his eyes and counted – to ten, twenty, twenty five. Until someone arrived and ran a hand down his back, asking, "Hey, are you okay?"

"Hey," Baekhyun calls out from a few feet away. Kyungsoo blinks a few times, refocusing his vision. His neck feels sore, almost as if he's been hanging his head low for a long time. And maybe he has. When he shifts his gaze, he finds the clapper is looking at him, one hand holding the top of the board while supporting the bottom with the other. His eyebrows are slanted and his lips are tugged down. Kyungsoo trails his gaze further south, fixing on the scribbles on the board – Scene 5, camera B, take 3. His body feels like it's been through a hundred takes already.

He draws his shoulders back until he hears the light cracking of his bones. He draws his gaze up, then, and spots two familiar names scribbled just an inch apart from each other. When he looks down at the clump of papers in his hands, he spots his notes for the same scene. _Right._ This is reality. This is not a film. This is not part of the script.

He looks to his side to address Baekhyun with a nod. Baekhyun drops his hand from where it's halfway through reaching out. Kyungsoo clears his throat, then, and sinks back in his seat.

"3, 2, 1, and… action!"

The memories have been flooding back earlier than expected. It isn't until the cusp of the dry and rainy season in summer that he gets these, flashes of his past that he'd long tried to forget. According to historical data, at least, but this is life he's dealing with, not business or figures or whatnot. He hasn't been to any hospital in a while, either, not even when they were shooting on location for his action films. The 'fixing people and mending physical wounds' scenes usually involved an ambulance or someone who has a medical kit. It made the whole concept of being on the run and being kickass fugitives more realistic. The closest he'd gotten to shooting in a hospital was having it as a backdrop in the last installment of the 'Run' series. It was in the ending, where the lead male and female blew up the hospital and exchanged high-fives as they ran straight to cam. The sun set in the distance, painting the scene in a deep shade of orange. Selective focus, then a Gaussian blur. Fade to black.

It's only been a week since they've started taping. Rain still pours down hard in Seoul in the afternoon. It's not the time to be taking a trip down memory lane. It's time to–

"Cut," Kyungsoo calls out. He gestures for Sehun and Baekhyun to come closer. "You're losing the expression in your face. Remember, you've just come from consultation with a doctor and he's telling you to put your brother in the hospital," he continues. He rubs his eyebrows a little. "You're supposed to be _confused_ , not disinterested."

Sehun blows at his bangs. "You can hear it in my voice."

"And I can read nothing in your expression but boredom. _Retake._ " Kyungsoo stands from his seat, then claps his hands in the air. "Okay, we're doing this from the top. The scene will come out better if we do the consultation and the departure in one take. 5B again, clapper. Mark this with an asterisk." Beside him, he hears Baekhyun's muffled sound of protest. He reaches for Baekhyun's wrist, then, and rubs circles where his bone juts out. He feels the light jerk of Baekhyun's body against his, the way his fingers relax against Kyungsoo's hold. "Sit down, talk to the doc, then leave. Don't slam the door. Shut it _gently_ behind you." He holds his finger up when Sehun takes one step forward. "You can even not close it all the way. Then I want you to look at your feet for a couple of seconds before you look _everywhere_ but the camera. _And then_ we cut to the next scene. Clear?"

Sehun opens his mouth like he's about to say something, but only rolls his eyes in response. He returns to the other side of the set, though, just outside the door, as the clapper fixes the text on the board.

"I should get you for all my movies with Sehun in it," Baekhyun whispers in his ear when he approaches. Kyungsoo shifts his gaze to meet Baekhyun's own, turns around a little. He leans back when he feels the light brush of Baekhyun's lips against his cheek. Baekhyun is smiling – no, he's _grinning,_ but the twitch of his lips is too fast, too quick that he misses most of it. Soon, the wicked upturn of his mouth eases into a softer smile. "You're the only one who can tame him."

Kyungsoo snorts. He's worked with worse. He had to deal with Kim Heechul for the whole 'Run' series. Sehun's a piece of cake. "You make him sound like a dog."

"Nah, he's a cat. A prissy cat," comes Jongdae's voice from behind. Baekhyun pulls away, taking a few steps back, then rests his elbow on Jongdae's shoulder. Jongdae's hair is a mess. His eye bags are the size of craters and he has a constellation of tiny pimples on his right cheek. Tiny red dots, at least, that look like pimples. The smile on his lips is a complete contrast to the look he's fashioning, though. It lights up his features a little, reminds Kyungsoo that they're just doing a film. This isn't real life. It's just a depiction of it.

The man in front of him is Jongdae, not Junho. He files that thought to the back of his mind.

"Watch him curl up beside you later so you can pet him and give him a belly rub," he continues. He stretches his arms over his head. "He likes it when you scratch the underside of his belly. It makes him feel all warm and fuzzy."

"Uh, no? I don't give people belly rubs."

Jongdae laughs a little. Kyungsoo's sinks his gaze to Jongdae's mouth, then, the subtle upward curl at the corners and the gentle swell of his bottom lip. "He's a cat."

No, that's you, he wants to say. He doesn't. Instead, he rolls his eyes and turns to look at Baekhyun. "The make up's really good. You better give Soojung a raise."

Jongdae chuckles, soft and faint, but soon the light laughter is replaced by a hard slap on Kyungsoo's arm. "It's not the make up. It's the actor who's wearing it! _The actor!_ "

Kyungsoo parts his lips to explain, but Jongdae reaches out to fluff his hair. His breath hitches and he feels a thick lump of air in his throat. Half of him wants to shiver; the other half is still caught between wanting to lean in or push Jongdae away, but he gets to do neither. Jongdae doesn't give him the opportunity to, because the next thing he knows Jongdae's walking over to where Sehun is faster than he can call out 'action!' Jongdae leans in, lips grazing the shell of Sehun's ear as he whispers something in his ear. Sehun remains dangerously still, eyebrows furrowed, nodding his head to the rhythm of Jongdae's hand movements. What the hell are you doing, Kyungsoo wants to ask. Then Sehun leans back a little, eyes wide open when he pulls away like he's just been hit with a realization. Like he's finally woken up.

"We're on a schedule," Kyungsoo calls out. "Chit-chat's over."

Sehun gives Jongdae one last nod and flashes two thumbs up. Peeking from behind Jongdae, he tells Kyungsoo, "I'm good, boss!"

"Alright. Places, people," Kyungsoo says. He glances at Baekhyun, then back at Jongdae who's making his way back to the sides where the production staff is. "And, action!"

Sehun nails the exact expression Kyungsoo is looking for at the first retake. Camera C was able to capture the tiny frown Sehun wore earlier, when the doctor hinted at getting Jongdae into a mental facility, but Sehun raises his hand and asks for a second take for the scene. "It's missing the eye twitch. I wanted to do that in the part where sonsaengnim calls hyung 'crazy' and 'hard to deal' with," he reasons. He looks down at his script, looks up at Kyungsoo, then shifts his gaze to Jongdae before turning to face the director again. "Boss, can you get hyung to stand somewhere I can see him during the consultation? I just need to... have something to draw emotions from."

"Yeah. Feed off of my angst," Jongdae groans. He glances at Kyungsoo, though, one eyebrow cocked in question. "May I?"

Kyungsoo hums, worrying his bottom lip. "Better yet, have Jongdae in the scene while the doctor talks about Jongdae's condition," he suggests. He looks at Baekhyun, then, head tilted a little as he rubs the tip of his nose. "Then we can scrap scene 6 and cut straight to 7 where the siblings prepare Jongdae's things for the move. Drop some bits of explanation there when Jongdae asks – I think you have that in page 7 – Sehun how long Sehun will be gone and Sehun goes into his deep introspection mode before answering–"

"Forever?" Jongdae continues, voice cracking. He moves closer to where Sehun is and stretches out one arm. He clenches his hands into fists, grabs at the air and throws it onto the ground without much force. It's such a boy band move, Kyungsoo has seen better acting than this, but at the same time _it works._ It fits Jongdae's character in the story – Kim Junho, the man who once wanted to be an idol but had to give up his dreams for– "Come on, Junsu. You won't leave hyung, right? You're the only one hyung has. Junsu, please–" His eyebrows are furrowed, twitching and coming together in a tight now. His lips are tugged down, quivering. His voice is shaking, and– "Junsu… Can you really leave hyung like this? Everybody's leaving and you're going away to leave your brother–"

Kyungsoo swallows hard. Sehun takes a step back, his shoulders jumping in accord. There it is, the perfect look he envisions Sehun wearing for this scene: eyes wide open, lips parted in a small 'o'. Bottom lip trembling and eyebrows twitching from time to time. Sehun locking and unlocking his jaw, gritting his teeth as Jongdae holds his gaze. Jongdae's breathing quick and shallow, evident in the small jumps of his shoulders, the occasional shaking of his forearms–

"This is not in the script," he whispers. Jongdae's body gives a light jerk. Sehun bites the inside of his cheek and twists his mouth in the way children do when they don't want to cry in front of elders. "Okay. _Stop._ This is not– Cut!"

Jongdae blinks, and then it's gone. He takes a deep, violent breath, breathing noisily through his nose. His face is still pale, though, nothing but the dots of red peppered on his cheeks serving as slivers of life. Sehun remains rooted where he is, until Baekhyun ushers him to the middle of the set and cues the clapper. "Kyungsoo," Baekhyun calls out, voice low and thick. Scratchy. It sounds as if he's been yelling for hours on end and no one's been listening to him. "Start the take. Now."

Kyungsoo nods. "Rolling," he says, then, and gestures for the clapper to move closer to the camera. He turns to look at Jongdae after a while and reaches out, steadying his hand on Jongdae's nape. He can feel the goosebumps on Jongdae's skin, tickling his palm. So he trails his hand down to the small of Jongdae's back. _Just like old times,_ a voice at the back of his head says. Just like that time when Jongdae was flailing around while Baekhyun was trying to disinfect his bruised toe. Just like before. Jongdae relaxes into the touch after a while, shoulders hunching forward. He can feel the light shift of Jongdae's muscles against his palm, can feel Jongdae's pulse on his skin when Jongdae rests his palm on his hand.

"Whenever you're ready," Kyungsoo whispers.

Jongdae closes his eyes. He nods. "I'm ready."

"Okay. Assume your place beside Sehun." Kyungsoo looks up, craning his neck to search for Baekhyun's gaze. "Clapper, cue. Camera A, dolly when they walk in. Focus on the upper body and follow their movements. Baekhyun–"

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. He takes that as a sign to go on. "Open the windows. Dim the studio lights. We'll want to capture this with ambient lighting."

Jongdae looks up. He cocks his head a little but takes his place behind Sehun, nonetheless.

They do two more takes of the scene, then shoot a few fillers for the reaction shots. It sort of looks different every single time, though, like everytime he says 'action!' Jongdae ups his game, adds more spice to his character, to the emotions his character brings. He'd call Jongdae out on it, tell him to keep things consistent and measure his emotions if he can, but this works. Jongdae's character makes it work.

But Jongdae _is_ his character, a voice at the back of his mind says. He shrugs that thought away and focuses on the scene unfolding in front of him – Jongdae asking Sehun, 'are you going to leave _your brother_ like this?', tweaking the line again and veering off the path the script has dictated him – instead, the word 'cut' swallowed along with the thick lump of _something_ that's been lodged in his throat since Jongdae walked into the set.

ö

"Take it," Baekhyun says. He takes a long drag from his cigarette, then passes it on to Kyungsoo. "I know you just already quit a long time ago but you look like you could use a stick. _Take it._ "

Kyungsoo fiddles with the stick between his fingers for a while before throwing it to the ground. Baekhyun doesn't even make a sound of protest – he just snorts, laughs a little. Lights another stick but doesn't finish the whole thing. He doesn't even get to the half mark, though, doesn't say anything else and just lets the soft blowing of the winds leave cracks on the white noise. He leaves a familiar dull pink stain on the paper when he pulls the stick from the suction of his lips. He's using the same brand of lip balm from years ago. Nivea, the strawberry variant, because Baekhyun hates cherry. And he hates the concept of set definitions all the more.

"How did you quit?" Baekhyun asks. He runs a thumb along the edge of his pack, then stuffs the box in his back pocket. "What made you quit? I mean–"

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and Kyungsoo turns to his side, meeting his gaze. He fishes for a pack of mints and shoves it in Baekhyun's chest in response. That isn't the question you should be asking, he wants to say, but Baekhyun doesn't need to hear that. He already knows it, has known it the very moment he called for a ten-minute break and asked Kyungsoo to come with him. The last time they went out for a cigarette break, that was very last time they did a movie together. It was twelve midnight and they were fresh from the tension of the pre-confession scene in the movie. Baekhyun's lips were the brightest shade of red. It was cold outside and it made sense to share a bit of warmth, so they ended up making out against the front door. By the end of the break, Baekhyun's hand had already slipped past the waistband of Kyungsoo's trackpants and Kyungsoo's fingers were tangled in Baekhyun's hair.

Before going back inside, Kyungsoo'd asked, 'So what is this thing? What are we?' Baekhyun'd said, 'I dunno, but I like kissing you.' 'Oh yeah? I like coffee, too, but I don't do this to coffee.' 'That's not the point.' But it _was_ the point. They'd been backing each other up against every flat surface after every tough exam for the past four years. Kyungsoo couldn't even eat strawberries anymore without tasting Baekhyun in them. Kyungsoo was on a quest for answers and Baekhyun kept hiding that fucking x mark from him. It wasn't fair.

That was the last time he tasted smoke in his mouth. That was the last time his mouth reeked of strawberry and Baekhyun, the last time he did romcom, as well. And now, here they are: sharing a pack of mints at the height of summer with rain pouring down just a few feet away.

"I forgot why I started smoking, in the first place. Didn't make sense anymore." Kyungsoo pops three pieces of mints in his mouth and cracks one of them with his teeth. The cool blast burns. "Cost-cutting. Every won saved is money earned."

"Of course, you'd be the practical one."

"And you're the crazy one. You've been genre hopping since we graduated from college."

"I needed the experience. Sticking to just one thing is boring," Baekhyun explains. He sticks out his tongue, seething, then asks, "What made you give the movie a shot, then?"

Kyungsoo looks to his side and leans back, tilting his head a little. There are a number of ways to answer it – 'I wanted to try something new', 'I was getting sick of action movies; they were getting tackier by the minute' – but he settles on the most obvious one. "You," he whispers, then cracks another mint in his mouth. There's no point in lying; he's known Baekhyun for years that even the slightest quirk of his lips can give himself away. He's known Baekhyun even before he picked up a camera, or a fountain pen that he insists on using when writing screenplays. Heck, he's known Baekhyun even before he dreamt of making films. When he entered K-ARTS, he just knew that he wanted to create something with his hands. It could've been anything: design, music, advertising campaigns. Animation, the next big thing in the world of cartoons. But then he walked into his film appreciation class and Baekhyun couldn't stop engaging their professor in a heated discussion about the best film of 2015. And Baekhyun was infectious. He's that fucking sore throat that won't let you rest, the dull ache in his gums. Baekhyun's the itch that just won't leave.

"That's it? That's your reason?"

"Well, I was getting bored with action. Thought it was time to try something new," he admits, then laughs a little. He pops the pack of mints open again, holds it out in Baekhyun's direction in case he needs something to stuff in his mouth. To keep him from saying something he might regret. "But yeah, it's mostly because you sounded so… excited about the film."

Baekhyun snorts. "Didn't know that 'excitement' wasn't foreign to you."

"I have a lot of feelings. I just prefer not to put them on display for public scrutiny."

"More like, you don't want people to figure you out so easily."

Kyungsoo lets out a low exhale. "Yeah. That, too."

Silence settles between them, broken only by the sound of their nails grazing the bottom of the canister of mints. Baekhyun takes a handful and starts popping them in his mouth like Skittles. Soon, he's seething, groaning every five seconds as he tilts his head back like that can do anything to make the situation better. Baekhyun only succeeds in making the mints slide down his throat, score a thick line of cold inside him and make him cough. He resurfaces soon after, though, once Kyungsoo rubs circles on his back – big then small then big again. Runs his hand along Baekhyun's spine until Baekhyun unfurls, leans into his touch, and throws his head back so hard the hits the wall with a loud 'thud'.

"Silly kid," Kyungsoo mumbles under his breath. He keeps his hand steady on the small of Baekhyun's back, though.

"I'm sorry about earlier," Baekhyun blurts out. Through the thin material of his shirt, Kyungsoo feels Baekhyun snap his spine straight. The dull 'pop' pricks his skin. "Jongdae… He gets into character too much sometimes. Gets too attached to the character. He says it helps him portray the character better. He's always been that way, every movie we've worked on. _All or them,_ " Baekhyun explains. He massages the back of his head, his temples. His nape, where Kyungsoo's hand had been earlier. "He's not being difficult. That's just how he is."

'How he is' probably isn't far from the 'Jongdae' Kyungsoo has seen in the past few days. They've been working together for a week now, four out of seven days, thirty hours a week. In all those times, he's seen Jongdae wear different hats – the Kim Jongdae who walks into the set in a baggy shirt and atrocious shorts but somehow salvages his outfit with a leather jacket. The Kim Jongdae who goes around to make sure that everyone has eaten their fair share of lunch. The Kim Jongdae who reviews the script during downtime like he's trying to figure out a balance sheet or a mathematical equation that he can't solve just yet. Then the Kim Jongdae in front of the camera, _Kim Junho,_ Sehun's character's brother.

"He _does_ know that he can't get too emotional, right?" Kyungsoo rubs the heel of his palm along the spread of Baekhyun's back. Baekhyun shivers a little. "If he immerses himself in the role too much, he won't be able to focus on a single emotion and it will be hard for him to relay the most important message he should be showing the audience."

"Helplessness? Or… that it's okay to depend of people from time to time."

Kyungsoo scoffs. He shakes his head. "Fear."

"Well, then, he's on track." Baekhyun scratches the back of his eat. "He's–"

"Doing well, I know. Great, even. Just him delivering his lines freaks me out. I don't even have to sit through the entire film to get scared out of my wits." Kyungsoo drops his hands to his side and leans against the door. Never mind that someone might open it any minute and that he'll fall on his ass if that happens; the wall is a nice balance of warm and cool. It's comforting. And the impact of the fall is nothing compared to almost getting run over while playing on the slide. "But there's too much of it. He's revealing too many things about the character and himself. There's a reason why _this_ is a movie and not real life, and that's because you have to distance yourself from the emotion if you want to study it from an objective standpoint. If you want to teach people how to deal with it through film." He takes a deep breath and tries to swallow, but his throat feels too dry. Too tight. Too cold and numb, like he's been using it too much for far too long. Even his jaws feel like they'd coffee off at the hinges already. "You can't be objective if you're too emotional."

"Is that why you dropped action? Because the love story that comes with those films is all about heightened emotions and lack of control?"

Right on target. Baekhyun's racking up points; it's dangerous. "Maybe," he whispers in response. He kicks the ground and relishes the feeling of the shock crawling up his legs, his thighs, numbing his knees. "This isn't about me, Baek."

"Of course. It's about the film. _Objectivity._ " Baekhyun rolls his eyes. His words sound stickier, each syllable drawn out like he's stretching himself thin, trying to see if he'll break with this much pressure on him. Then he drops his gaze to his watch and adjusts the band on his wrist. "It's almost time."

"Five more minutes," Kyungsoo mumbles, then inches closer to Baekhyun until their shoulders bump. His arms are still lined with goosebumps, remnants of the scare he'd had with Jongdae's part earlier, but that's okay. Baekhyun won't judge. They've conquered fears far more overwhelming than emotions in the past. The files for their thesis almost got corrupted and they didn't even think of maiming each other. This is okay.

"Need a hug?" Baekhyun says much later, nudging Kyungsoo in his side. Kyungsoo simply rolls his eyes and allows himself to rest his head on Baekhyun's shoulder.

ö

They slow down in crossing off scenes and footages from the shot list. They're getting to the juicier parts – Jongdae stepping inside the hospital, knowing that he'll be staying here for a long time, Sehun having to _force himself_ to turn around and fight the urge to take his brother back in. Sehun only being able to talk to Jongdae through the glass because the doctors have diagnosed Jongdae as someone 'potentially dangerous'. Jongdae almost going berserk at the very mention of the phrase. They've got all those scenes laid down for the next two weeks. After much consideration, Kyungsoo relents and gives Minseok and Joonmyun's 'of course, we're from KAIST' line a go and assures them that it will make the final edit. "Adds more personality to the side characters," Kyungsoo says after swallowing the slice of kimbap in his mouth. He wipes the corners of his mouth, then adds, "Besides, we have to bring out Minseok's side story more. Even the smallest cues can do a lot to his overall character."

"Y'know, I should've consulted you on the script even before we got sponsors to support this project," Baekhyun calls out from over his shoulder. He'd already taken his lunch earlier and is now busy taking out medicine bottles from Bayer for their next scene. Strategic product placement and exposure, that was what Baekhyun promised to the head of Bayer. "I could've gotten your builds on the story and it would've come out better. Juicier. More controversial."

"We can't make it too controversial," Kyungsoo mumbles. "Using the Gonjiam incident as the handle is already a big issue, as it is."

Baekhyun shrugs. "It was worth a shot. Or maybe you can use your… what was it? Context cues something technique? The bullshit about subtlety that you were talking about earlier?"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, then chucks the tissue he'd balled up in his fist earlier at Baekhyun. Wrong timing, though, because the next thing he knows Jongdae's passing by and rubbing his right eye. "Whoa, parents, stop fighting. You don't want the kids to see this," Jongdae groans. "Which scene are we on?"

"Scene 8, cameras A and B. Be conscious of the eye twitches, though. That's Junsu's signature expression, not yours. You can't share quirks at this point because you hate your brother right now."

"How about a lip twitch?"

Kyungsoo looks up from his food, then fixes his eyes on Jongdae. Jongdae plays with his lips, then, licks along the outer skin before nibbling on them. To anyone, it would look as if Jongdae's just feeling unsettled, confused, but there's a fire in his eyes that Kyungsoo just can't put out. His eyes are narrowed, his gaze sharp and focused. He's curling the corners of his mouth like he's just found his prey. Like he's zeroing in on it, waiting to pounce on it and claim it as his. Jongdae leans in, closer, until the light filtering through the window hits him. It seeps into his skin, washes him out. Kyungsoo can only make out the faint shadows of Jongdae's dimples and the crinkles at the corner of his eyes, but Jongdae's smile is crystal clear in his eyes.

"That's not a lip twitch. That's a lip lick," Kyungsoo comments. He feels his eyes twitch, the pulse in his temples throbbing. He's seen the same look before. There's a distant memory of it at the back of his head, spilling to the back of his eyelids when he closes his eyes. Then he sees it again, but in the eyes of a different man. Someone smaller, _younger._ A kid whose bangs rest just above his eyebrows and whose smile looks like a shy twist of the mouth, a tentative and held back grin.

"Lemme work on that, hang on–" Jongdae tries again, but only succeeds in jutting out his bottom lip. "Okay, never mind. I'll just do the snarling-smiling thing. You said you liked that, right?"

Kyungsoo hums. He draws his gaze down, traces the curve of Jongdae's mouth with his eyes. When Jongdae darts his tongue out, licking the corners of his mouth, Kyungso gulps down hard. "Mhmm, that's fine. You look happy and pissed off. I can see the conflict in your features."

Jongdae holds his gaze a little longer, then pulls away with a small smile. The twinkle in his eyes vanishes when he looks down at the floor, eyes half-mast and cheeks pulled down into something more neutral. Something… vacant.

Kyungsoo shakes it off with a twist of his neck, then locks his arms behind his back. They have two scenes to shoot today before sundown. They can't lose the light or else the scene will look too staged, less real. This will be a long day.

Sunyoung's introduction is alluded to at the end of scene 8. Minseok calls her 'the nice and pretty intern,' a description that makes Sunyoung giggle for a good three minutes. When she surfaces, her features are more relaxed. There's still a hint of laughter at the corners of her lips, though, pulling them instead of keeping them in a small, controlled smile. So Kyungsoo reminds her, "Remember that this is the first time you're really handling a patient. It's your first week as an intern and all you've seen are patients being dragged to and from the ER. You got that?" Kyungsoo says as he rests a palm on her arm and gives it a light squeeze.

"Cool, calm, calculated," Jongdae calls out. He taps his right temple, eyes locked onto Sunyoung's own as he adds, "You're the smartest, most compassionate girl in all of Ehwa U! You're the perfect one for Junho!"

Sunyoung giggles. She chokes on the second bout of laughter, but soon the sound blooms into something brighter. It tickles Kyungsoo's insides a little.

"Clapper, scene 8," Kyungsoo calls out. He looks around, searching for any sign of Baekhyun, then gestures at him to come closer. "If we can get this in one take, then _awesome._ We want to capture the rawness of the scene. The mix of surprise and shock. You can fake that." Baekhyun inches closer to the camera and looks at the set through the viewfinder. He holds a thumbs up after a while, then kicks the side of Kyungsoo's foot. Kyungsoo presses the record button and waits for the light to turn red.

"Joonmyun-hyung's ushering the siblings outside the room and guiding them to where the interns are, okay–" He hops on the seat for the dolly and nods, then he starts moving. He fixes the focus, adjusts it as he dollies and focuses the lens until the image becomes crisp. Joonmyun's gesticulating something with his hands, and Sehun looks as if he's ready to make a run for it and help his brother escape the institution. Jongdae looks… lost, but that's part of who his character is. Kyungsoo raises one hand, then, and points at Sunyoung. She starts walking and soon she's inside the frame, a foot away from where Joonmyun and the siblings are.

"Ah, Bitna," Joonmyun says. He smiles and addresses Sunyoung with a nod. Sunyoung does the same, even bows a little before snapping her spine straight again. "This is Kim Junho-ssi and he's the one you will be assisting for the next few months. The chief said that you handle…" Joonmyun purses his lips. Kyungsoo laughs a little – trust Joonmyun to add a dramatic flair to his line by using long pauses. "Used to handle someone like Junho before. Class 4. He's a class 3."

"Oh, he is? He looks–"

"Doesn't matter how he looks," Sehun says, groaning. He rolls his eyes and _there it is,_ the tiny voice at the back of Sehun's mind – no, at the back of _Junsu's_ mind – that screams distaste. "He's just like any other guy."

Sunyoung's lips fall open into a tiny 'o'. Her eyes are wide open, a bit dilated, and her upper lip gives a funny little quiver. That's the interest that comes after surprise. This is method acting at its finest. Then she's smiling, mouth curving up to reveal bright teeth. "Hello," she begins, then extends her hand in Jongdae's direction. Jongdae's response is to take half a step back, to reach for Sehun's hand and hold onto it like a lifeline. She chuckles. "Hi, Junho. I'm Bitna. Lee Bitna." She presses her lips together and something flickers in Jongdae's eyes. A light flush crawls up his neck and settles on his cheeks. "How old are you, Junho?"

Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from laughing. He's never worked with anyone who can blush at will, _ever._ He's never even worked with anyone who can use the subtlest of facial expressions in lieu of dialogue and use them as emotional cues. If this is the quality of acting that Jongdae can bring to a team producing some cheapass film, then he'll be able to bring more to the table when he works on bigger productions, large-scale ones. Movies that go on for two, three hours instead of the ninety-minuter they're filming at the moment. This isn't talent that you should be keeping in the dark.

"Twenty–" He didn't include an age in the character descriptions, but if one reads the script thoroughly, remembers that Junho has been through two very trying jobs and has been already been burning a hole in his kidney for the past six years, then they'd realize that Junho is around– "–nine." Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and Kyungsoo follows suit. He brings his hands down to his thighs when he feels his fingers trembling. "I'm twenty-nine. Junsu is twenty-seven. We're brothers and we live together in Gyeonggi-do and we're a happy family."

He scrunches his nose a little. The last bit isn't in the script, but it's nothing that can destroy the plot. And Jongdae's still blushing, but it's more controlled now. His ears are no longer pink and his cheeks have taken on a peachy tint.

"Oh! I'm… just a year younger than you are, Junho… oppa?" Sunyoung chuckles, but quickly presses the back of her hand to her lips. "Ah, I'm sorry, I just–"

Jongdae shakes his head, vigorous and abrupt, and he reaches for the pads of Sunyoung's fingers. Kyungsoo's breath hitches. He's seen this before. Probably in one of those dramas that he had to sit through for film class but… It's different. Jongdae moves his fingers a little and slips them between Sunyoung's own. Sunyoung's eyes shoot up and one of her hands falls to her side, until Jongdae reaches for it, too. The fit is weird, awkward, but then they hadn't rehearsed this. _It's not in the script._ Jongdae hadn't even told Kyungsoo about this and yet he's doing it right here, right now. Stunning Sunyoung with the warm press of his hand against hers, catching her off-guard.

His fingers are longer than hers. Thinner. If he just curls his fingers around her hand then he can envelop Sunyoung's tiny fist with his own. He can keep her warm. He doesn't. Instead, he stays there, dragging his fingers down until the tips of his fingers are slotted between the pads of Sunyoung's hands.

"Op...pa?" Sunyoung whispers. Her breathing is shaky, _noisy._ Plosives, Kyungsoo registers. He'll have to deal with that for the final edit. There's a stutter in the rise of her shoulders. That one, he can't fix in post-production. "Are you–"

"It's… okay." Jongdae blinks, drops his hands in front, then pulls away. "Oppa is fine," he says, then puts some distance between them, shuffling back to Sehun's side.

"I'll take you to your room," Joonmyun says. They're back on track, back to the script. Back to the scene they've rehearsed five times an hour ago. Kyungsoo nods in appreciation. "This way."

Sunyoung looks at her feet, peeks at Jongdae through her bangs, then looks at her trembling fingers. When Jondgdae walks away, falling into step with Sehun, Sunyoung clenches her hands into fists and presses them to her chest, left and center. Kyungsoo zooms in on that – the light shake of Sunyoung's hands, the expression on the face. The way she cranes her neck when Joonmyun, Jongdae, and Sehun disappear around the corner. The way she takes a deep breath then breathes out in a shaky exhale.

"Cut!" Kyungsoo calls out, then lets out all the breath he didn't know he'd been holding in. He closes his eyes, maps the surface of the camera with his hands, looking for the stop button, and rests his head on its cool body. He can still hear Jongdae's heavy breathing through the lapel, through the headphones keeping all the sound in his ears from escaping. Through this link of theirs – music cables, one script, too many adlibs and alterations to the original text. All these long feet between them that Jongdae trims down to an arm's length when he runs back to where Kyungsoo is and asks, "Was that good?"

"Yeah, it was," Kyungsoo mumbles. He looks up, meets Jongdae's eyes for a moment, then looks at the clapper. "Zitao, Scene 9. Three-cam set up." He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. "We're moving to the next location."

Jongdae beams at him. "Glad you liked the improvisation," he says, then rejoins Sehun and the rest of the cast. He reaches over Sehun's shoulder to give Sunyoung's hair a quick ruffle, then ducks when she looks around. There's a funny feeling in Kyungsoo's throat, a tickling sensation, so he relents and laughs a little, shakes his head, catches Jongdae's gaze for the quickest moment then loses it to Sunyoung jabbing Jongdae on the arm.

He takes slow steps forward, scoring his nail along Jongdae's lines as he reviews the script. When he squints, he finds a tiny scribble in blue ink, saying, 'IMPORTANT!! one take only. don't fuck up kjd :ccc make big boss kyungsoo proud kekeke c:'

He rolls up the bundle of paper and tucks it under his arm. He keeps his eyes trained on Jongdae's retreating figure – the way light catches on Jongdae's hair and turns it from brown to gold – as he walks to the other side of the hospital. There's work to be done. This isn't the time to be thinking of other things.

ö

Taping ends earlier than expected today. The hospital tour scene went more smoothly than expected, with Minseok adding a few more details here and there as he showed Jongdae and Sehun to the multi-sensory rooms. Most of the cast had something to do after the shoot. Minseok, Joonmyun, and Sunyoung had a movie to catch. Sehun went out with the production staff for dinner number two and went to a records shop with Zitao. Baekhyun had to take a bath and play Dragon Age. Jongdae had to do _something._ Jongdae hadn't said much, just told them that he had to go to Yeouido today instead of returning to his flat in Apgeujong. "Life stuff," Jongdae reasoned out, then wore his back pack in front. He gave Baekhyun a wave, then turned to wink at Kyungsoo. "Go out and unwind, boss. You look tired. Not a cute look on you," he said as a goodbye, then disappeared around the block.

Kyungsoo remembers his breath hitching, remembers his fingers turning cold. The last time someone called him cute was in bed. Baekhyun never tried that again after Kyungsoo made him wear a cock ring and didn't let him come hours after.

And then there's that one time when he was five, in the playground back in Donghae-si. He'd finally stopped crying after someone threatened to hang him upside-down from the monkey bars if he didn't 'let them play in peace' for thirty minutes. "Hey, stop crying," a voice at the back of his mind says now, surfacing from the deepest tresses of his mind. "Cute boys shouldn't cry– Hey, I'll buy you ice cream. You want that, hmm?"

"So you're saying," Chanyeol says now, shifting in his seat. The server places the soju they'd ordered on the table and pours them a shot each. "That this guy you're working with reminds you of someone from the past but I probably don't know him?" Chanyeol snorts, then pushes one glass in Kyungsoo's direction. "Look, I know you're the only person who's supported me all the way with this manhwa thing but man, this plot you've come up with? It's weird, bordering on _creepy._ "

Kyungsoo catches the condensation on his glass of water and flicks some of it in Chanyeol's eyes. "Shut up. You're at the end of your production cycle. You shouldn't be talking about manhwa anymore." He raises his shot glass, then, and clinks it with Chanyeol's own. He waits for Chanyeol to take his shot, then turns the other way before drinking his. The alcohol leaves a nasty burn on his tongue, seeps into the tiny cracks on his lips. "I'm saying, he looks familiar. Too familiar. It freaks me out."

Chanyeol snorts. "Y'know, the last time you used that line was with Baek. Where's that guy, by the way? Last time I saw him was right after uni, before you two fled from each other's life like wounded birds."

"Another of your manhwa lines and I won't hesitate to shove your face in the grill, I swear."

"All bark, no bite, my little pup," Chanyeol singsongs. He sticks out his tongue, then places two slices of mean on Kyungsoo's plate. "How d'you two start talking again, by the way? I haven't even heard you say his name in a while. You make him sound like Voldemort or something."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He pours them a shot each, then dips the meat in gochujang.

The truth is that Baekhyun was the one who made an effort to reconnect with him. It was a Thursday night, three months back, a season ago. He was fresh from a shoot for an action movie – the last one in the Run series – when he felt his phone buzzing in his pocket. He couldn't see through the blinding lights in the set. So he picked up even if he didn't have the number registered on his phone. It was one of those days when he could be getting prank calls and he wouldn't mind. He'd just successfully finished a movie, the last installment in the trilogy. He wasn't just feeling alright; he was _happy._

Baekhyun took control of the conversation. He knew exactly how to broach the topic, how to let Kyungsoo know that, 'Hey, maybe you can give this a shot since you're not really fit for action. Horror, Kyungsoo! You'd do great in horror!' And somehow his enthusiasm seeped into Kyungsoo's skin again the way it did back in university, on the first day of their film appreciation class. Some things, even when withered by time, don't change.

"He called. I picked up. Now we're working with each other." Kyungsoo takes some kimchi from the dish and pops them in his mouth. "It wasn't so hard to pick up from where we left off."

Chanyeol holds his gaze for a while, then nods before looking down. He peeks through the curls of his bangs and blows at them so he can see Kyungsoo better. He leans closer, too, and Kyungsoo leans back into his seat, suddenly feeling the smoke from the grill in his eyes. It makes him wince; Chanyeol's knowing gaze makes him want to duck and just leave. But Chanyeol does him a favor and sinks back in the couch, chopsticks no longer encroaching Kyungsoo's side of the grill.

And the smoke is no longer blowing in Kyungsoo's direction, no longer making his eyes water. If anything, it's just keeping him warm.

Chanyeol laughs a little and pokes a slice of meat. He turns it over, yelping when the hot oil pricks his skin. "You've been waiting for him to call you first, haven't you?"

"You won't let on if I say no, will you?"

"You're not answering my question." Chanyeol adds some garlic to the grill and tosses in some kimchi, too. He picks up the freshly cooked meat and drops it on Kyungsoo's bowl. "I said, you were waiting for him to make the first move, weren't you? Because you have too much pride in you that you won't allow yourself to be the first to yield when he was the first to leave between the two of you?"

Don't go making baseless assumptions when you've barely seen me during university, Kyungsoo wants to say, but he doesn't. Chanyeol doesn't need to read through his biography to know exactly how Kyungsoo feels about things. He has better reference material for that – years of friendship, all those years that they've spent playing in the same sandpit, the same playground. When Kyungsoo's family moved to Ilsandong from Donghae-si, Chanyeol was his first friend, was his only friend for a time. Chanyeol weaned the uncertainty of moving around off of Kyungsoo and eased him into a new town, enough for Kyungsoo to call it 'home'. He grew up alongside Kyungsoo, saw him evolve from the boy who adds three scoops of sugar to his hot chocolate to the guy who takes his coffee black. Heck, Chanyeol can even make a manhwa out of Kyungsoo's life if he wanted to. Or maybe he already has; he's just waiting for Kyungsoo's most vulnerable moment. Or Kyungsoo's next birthday.

Chanyeol _knows_ him like he knows his own self. Maybe even better. So when Kyungsoo parts his lips to speak, Chanyeol winks at him and raises his shot glass. "Cheers, buddy." He means, cheers for waving the white flag without meaning to.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He mirrors Chanyeol and bumps his glass into Chanyeol's just a little. He can see the look on his face reflected in Chanyeol's eyes. It's one of those defeated looks that he hates wearing and Chanyeol loves seeing on him.

"Cheers."

ö

Kyungsoo feels around for his phone and groans when he ends up on the floor. He reaches up, grabs a fistful of his bedsheets but only succeeds in falling back down. His balance is immaculate on most days, but drinking always renders him a bit incapacitated the following day. It makes his vision extra fuzzy, too, and the full minute it takes him to refocus his vision stretches into a good three minutes. He lies flat on his back, the bright white ceiling glaring at him. _Laughing_ at him for drinking so much at the age of twenty-eight. So he mumbles 'fuck off' under his breath, closes his eyes as he tries to still the throbbing pulse in his temples.

Dong Bang Shin Ki stops singing. Then there it is again, the opening notes of 'Rising Sun' blasting inside his room at ass o' clock in the morning. Gingerly, he turns over to lie flat on his stomach, then pushes himself off the floor.

There's something under his bed that looks a lot like his phone. He sinks back down on his stomach, then, and reaches for it. The stretch burns but it gets the job done. He punches in his unlock code as fast as he can, eager to make the singing stop, then says into the receiver, "Hello?"

"Ah, there you go," comes a familiar voice. He blinks a few times, then rolls to his side. He hits his bed with the back of his head and groans. "Oh, hey, careful– Are you alright?"

"Who are you," he croaks. He massages the bruised area, then checks the display of his phone. It's an unregistered number. Maybe an alien life form's calling him. It sounds strangely human. "Who the hell gave you my number?"

"You, actually, but–" Light laughter, then, "Baekhyun sort of predicted that he'd end up sleeping in so he gave me the responsibility of giving you a wake up call. So hello, boss." Soft humming and some giggling, and then, "Good morning."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows, then falls flat on his back with a faint 'thud'. He knows this voice, the lilt and the hitch of the breath and even the way the syllables of his words are spaced out. He's heard it in an enclosed space, in a set big enough for a horror film disguised as a romantic film. He's heard it before through his headphones, has seen its sound waves written on his computer screen and has already figured out the right amount of volume for the speaker's voice. If this man stays close to the microphone with less than three inches between his lips and the filter, his voice will come out too strong. _Scratchy,_ on bad days. Six inches is a good distance between the mic and his mouth. This distance – too many inches between them, their only link being this phone line – this is good. No brick walls or waves going past the hard limit. No cracks in the man's voice.

Kyungsoo closes his eyes, opens them again when the man at the other end of the line. "Hey, don't fall asleep on my now. Grind is at ten, remember? You'll want to be here by eight, boss."

Kyungsoo groans. "Shut up, Jongdae," he mumbles. He turns around again, getting up on his knees this time. He can feel his limbs again. He's awake enough for this. "And… good morning."

Jongdae hums. "Glad to know you're up," he says, then laughs a little. "Baekhyunnie's shitting me – he said you're extra nice in the morning."

Baekhyun probably means 'extra clingy', but Jongdae's miles away. Kyungsoo can't show him that, can't prove to him that Baekhyun knows him more than he knows himself. Besides, it wasn't until they were in second year, when Baekhyun started sleeping in Kyungsoo's bed more than he did in his own that he figured that out. Peeling people's layers off takes time. Weaning oneself off of a second skin takes even longer.

"Yeah, whatever Baekhyun says is bullshit," he replies after a while. He kicks at the carpet and scratches a line along it with his big toe. Some of the thread in the carpet catches on his nail. This is going to hurt like a bitch later, when his senses are more awake. "Will you… What time will you be at the set?"

"Well, I'm leaving early since I'm not coming from Apgeu." Some scratching and rustling in the background, then, "Probably in two hours? What's up?"

"Nothing. I just–" He jams his toe into the bed post and seethes. He bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from blabbering about weird things. He hasn't had coffee yet; his head feels as if it will explode anytime. "Catering won't serve breakfast today," he continues, then worries his bottom lip. "But they'll be there for lunch."

"Oh wow. I was looking forward to the sausages." Jongdae groans. "Should we grab breakfast outside, then? The early birds?"

Kyungsoo looks up at his wall clock. The hands have just moved to ten minutes past six in the morning. It's too early to be translating his thoughts into words with relative ease. Jongdae shouldn't be this eloquent as an early hour. "Yeah. Probably."

"Awesome. I'll see you in two hours," Jongdae replies. Kyungsoo catches a muffled 'oh shit' on the other end of the line. He laughs a little. "Don't be late! It's not good practice to come in late on your first date."

"It's not–" The words get chokes down somewhere along the way, and he feels the lump of air in his throat grow thicker. More menacing. More alarming. "Jongdae–"

A high-pitched 'see you', then a beep. Kyungsoo gulps hard. The sound makes him shiver.

Taking a shower feels more like heading out to catch the light drizzle instead of taking a bath. He emerges from the showers in ten minutes, slips into his most comfortable clothes in five. Summer means he doesn't have to put on too many laters of clothing, but it's raining outside and he can hear the winds whipping the branches of the trees, whistling and slithering through the narrow slits of his windows. He pulls a sweater over his head, then, and grabs the bag he's been using for the past few weeks. Tosses his phone and the charger inside, too, before dashing out of his flat to catch the 6:30 bus. He'll be late by a good fifteen minutes, given the weather, but that doesn't matter – early morning trips hardly feel like two long hours of nothing but white noise when he has his earphones plugged on.

He feels his phone buzzing inside his bag. He rummages through his things, then, until he finds it. _probs gonna be late bec it's raining but do u want to meet at starbucks alr? closer to the station kekeke :3,_ the message says. It's from an unknown number, but Kyungsoo can hear a familiar voice at the back of his head delivering the exact same line.

He can see, too, the way the corners of Jongdae's mouth curl up into a tiny, tiny smile. The image burns brightly at the back of his eyelids, leaves a haunting image in wisps of light when he opens eyes.

 _yeah sure, sounds good,_ he replies. He slips his phone in his pocket and puts on his earphones. SHINee's debut single starts out as a low hum in his ears.

ö

Kyungsoo wakes up with a tiny jerk of the body, a violent breath of life. He can still feel his knees shaking, even as the bus slows down to a halt. It's much colder now than it was two hours ago, when he'd just gotten on, but then the rain's pouring much harder. Heavier. The big droplets of water earlier have now turned into tiny droplets cascading down the glass. The streets of Gonjiam-eup are covered in a thick layer of white. And the wind's blowing, rustling the leaves of the streets. Kyungsoo has only two thoughts in mind: 1) it's a good thing he brought his big umbrella with him at the very last minute, and 2) Jongdae brought an umbrella with him, right?

 _you have an umbrella with you?_ he texts Jongdae as he alights the bus. He rushes to the shed as soon as his feet hit the ground, covering his bag with his coat. _if not i can meet you at the station–_

"Hey, boss!" Kyungsoo snorts. He hits 'send' on accident and just rolls his eyes before looking over his shoulder. "Kyungsoo!"

He turns around and raises his hand in the air as a greeting. There aren't too many people in the station – mostly individuals falling in line near the turnstiles to swipe their cards, wallet in one hand and file cases or bags in the other – but he's long accepted that it's easier to get drowned by a sea of people when you're small. Once, Chanyeol walked right past him in Myeongdong because Chanyeol was looking up instead of down. 'And you're in black – all black! I mean, I could've mistaken you as a shadow or something–' It comes in handy sometimes, when he feels like being swallowed by the ground or when he feels like disappearing. Slow down for a while and watch people rush to wherever they want to be from the sidelines and just _stay in one place._ Watch people pass him by.

"Just saw your text," Jongdae says as he approaches, holding his phone up. Kyungsoo can't see much from where he is, but it looks as if there are icons beside his name in Jongdae's contact list. Jongdae _would_ be the type to add a star to someone's name in a contact card. Or maybe even a tilde. It's already there, in the lilt of his voice or in the way he says things like he's always singing. "Lemme just say: _you_ have great timing and I am the luckiest person alive. How did you know I didn't have an umbrella with me?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. "Just thought you'd forget to bring one."

Jongdae chuckles. He doesn't sound mad; he sounds amused. "Even if it's been raining the whole night?"

"I almost forgot to bring mine," Kyungsoo admits. "I mean, I was in a rush to catch the second trip so I didn't want to–"

Jongdae leans back, eyes widening and his lips falling open into a small 'o'. He presses his lips together in a thin line, but there's still the subtle upward tug on the corners of his lips, pulling up his cheeks and lighting up his features a little. There are raindrops on Jongdae's bangs, sliding down the strands until they catch on the tips. They don't fall off just yet, not until Jongdae shakes them off and blows at his hair. He looks like a puppy after bathing, or a cat trying to fight off the forces of evil. And he looks a little more than human when the wind blows and tousles his damp hair, caresses his cheeks and makes giggle a little when he shivers.

Kyungsoo wants to reach out, to brush Jongdae's bangs away from his eyes so he can see better. So he can see Jongdae better. He doesn't. Instead, he tightens his grip on the handle of the umbrella and leans against it. His knees still feel a bit weak.

"You… really wanted to get here on time, didn't you?" Jongdae says after a while. He tilts his head to the right, then the left, like he's trying to see the best possible angle where he can marvel at Kyungsoo. Or maybe he's just trying to check where the wind is blowing so he won't get water in his eyes. It must be the latter. "Everyone's probably going to be late; you didn't have to trouble yourself with–"

"It's my film. My–" Baby, he wants to say, but swallows the word down even before he can press his lips together and make a 'b' sound. "Passion," he says, instead, no matter how weird it sounds. If they were reading a script out loud, the director probably would have yelled 'cut!', would've told Kyungsoo that the line sounds so forced and contrived. That's what he would have done if he saw his stuttering, second-guessing self in front of the cameras. It's disgusting. This isn't the character he's written himself to be. "I don't mind traveling two hours everyday for it. Rain shouldn't be much of a bother."

Jongdae opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. He purses his lips and sucks them in at the corners. And Kyungsoo sucks in his breath, gives in to the allure of studying Jongdae's lips, how he twists them until they part to reveal a bright smile. Tiny teeth. Small cracks and dry skin on Jongdae's bottom lip. His thin lips that are a dull shade of pink.

"You're… something," Jongdae whispers. He leans in and reaches out, hovering for a while, before fluffing Kyungsoo's hair. Only when he drops his hand to his sides does Kyungsoo let out all the breath he's been keeping in for the past minute. "You're really cute."

Kyungsoo bites the inside of his cheek. "We should get going," he says, then opens his umbrella overhead. Jongdae slips right beside him and wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's arm. "Ready?"

Jongdae smiles at him and scrunches his nose, eyes thinning into slits. He wasn't ready for that.

ö

Jongdae orders some weird variation of a Caramel Macchiato while Kyungsoo sticks with his Americano. One thing they both agree on, though, is how great the French Toast tastes and how it's even better when you spread some strawberry jam on top. "The secret," Jongdae begins, voice dropping to a whisper. He looks around for an audience like he really doesn't want anyone else to know, like this is supposed to be _their secret._ He hooks his index finger on the collar of Kyungsoo's sweater, then, and gives it a light tug, pulling Kyungsoo closer. Kyungsoo leans forward but grips the edge of the table tight, holding back and giving in in equal parts. Jongdae's skin is cool to touch, leaves tiny sparks when his knuckles ghost over Kyungsoo's skin, but Jongdae's cheeks are pink and his lips are the brightest shade of red again. And he looks alive, like his convoluted coffee order had breathed life into him. Like breakfast _has_ calmed the storm and is prying the doors of clouds open so that the sun can shine down on them. "The secret is to apply just a teeny, tiny bit of maple syrup after you spread butter on the toast, _and then_ add the jam as the last layer. And then roll the slice and munch on the slightly burnt edges and _ah–_ "

He presses his lips together, lips curling up at the corners as he lets out a low hum. Kyungsoo gulps hard, waits for it – the punchline, the continuation, for Jongdae to open his eyes and drop the smile and just stuff his mouth with the French Toast because those lips are a sin – the conflict. The shape of his mouth is the climax, and his bright laughter is the lack of resolution. So Kyungsoo presses rewind, plays this moment in slow-mo, and studies every quirk of Jongdae's face, the shift of the muscles, the slow-forming smile on his lips in the hope of finding a good way to end this. The fastest way to make Jongdae drop that smile and sink his lips back into his drink.

After Jongdae empties out his sweet coffee, they walk to the location in silence. Jongdae sings from time to time, creating ripples in the thick sheet of white noise, but for the most part he keeps his lips pressed together, his uncoordinated limbs humming for him instead. When they arrive at the set, the production team has already started setting up. The redheads are cruel in the way they shine light upon Jongdae, setting him aglow and then washing him out. So Kyungsoo sticks around a little longer, holds onto Jongdae like a lifeline and hooks the pads of his fingers on Jongdae's arm.

The lighting assistant turns the redhead to the other side. "Relax," Jongdae whispers in Kyungsoo's ear, then pulls away with a smile.

The thumping in his chest quickens. They're not walking in the rain anymore. They're no longer sharing an umbrella and taking careful steps so they won't get mud on their pants. There's no reason to hang around a little longer. Kyungsoo rubs his hands together, then, and balls his hands into fists along the hem of his shirt in an effort to restore the feeling in his hands. To thaw himself out. The warmth it brings him, the sizzle of heat that crawls up his spine and down his abdomen – it's not the same. This is not in the script. This isn't what he's prepared himself for. He reworks the scene in his head, moves things around until Jongdae's walking back in his direction.

Jongdae gives him a wink before walking past him and slipping into the dressing room. _This_ is part of the script. Jongdae's the lead actor, and Kyungsoo's the director. There's work to be done. So Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, swallows the spit in his mouth, and counts from three to one.

Lights, camera, _action._


	2. Chapter 2

Sunyoung runs into some trouble halfway through the taping. In one of her promotional guest appearances in an idol sportsfest, she spikes the ball to the other side of the court and nails the win for her team. It's a close call, 25-24 in their favor, and it's a well-deserved win. They were trailing Victoria's team by 6 points before the big turn-around, a nice drop volley to the front that was 50% luck and 50% good timing. It's the best way to win a match, and the most fulfilling way as well. The cheers of the crowd are deafening. Her teammates are waiting for her to land back on the court. But then she slips, loses balance when she lands on the heels of her feet. Her first instinct is to cushion her fall with the heel of her palm, but time gets the better of her and sneaks up on her, making her plummet to the ground faster than she can react. So she curls up on the floor and bites on her bottom lip too hard in an effort to keep herself from crying out loud.

It makes the headlines of the entertainment section of broadsheets all over South Korea until three days after the incident happened. It makes Kyungsoo's head spin when Sunyoung's manager calls him the same day, saying, "I know we signed a contract but I have a very big favor to ask from you."

Fast forward a week later and Sunyoung's back on her feet, but with the help of crutches. There's no hint of pain her features, though, when she shows up on set. If she'd showed up during casting period, she'd be a believable victim of a bad sports injury, one who's trying to see the light in what has just happened to her. There's still the same smile on her lips – the Sunyoung smile, not the one of her character's. The same smile that graced her lips when Jongdae, too in character, took her hand while the camera was rolling. Her most spontaneous smile.

"I'm sorry," she whispers when she approaches the cast and crew now, head hung low. Kyungsoo tilts his head a little, searching for her gaze, and catches it when she looks up at him through her bangs. "I should've been more careful. We're in the middle of taping and whatever happens to me will affect the story–"

"Shit happens," Kyungsoo says. He rests a hand on her shoulder and gives it a gentle squeeze. He can feel Sunyoung's sharp intake of breath through the sudden rise of her shoulders, in the thrumming pulse in her collarbones. "We'll figure something out."

Her lips quiver. Kyungsoo gulps hard and wears his best smile. He gives her shoulder another squeeze before dropping his hand to the side. "We'll keep you in the film," he assures her, then turns on his heel. Then he leans back in his seat, tattered script in one hand and his phone – Baekhyun's number flashing on screen – in the other.

It isn't until thirty minutes after, until Baekhyun steps into his personal space and _insists_ that they work with their arms pressed together in a tiny couch that Kyungsoo gets an idea for a workaround. "The restructuring won't be on the plot but on the character," he explains, then scribbles Sungyoung's character's name on the other side of the script. "After a bus accident with preschoolers on board, she ends up with this injury. Problem #1, solved." He crosses it off his check list; Baekhyun snatches the paper from him and draws a star beside the squiggly line. "Nobody dies but since she helped all the kids get out before saving herself, her legs will be out of commission for a while. Hence the wheelchair. Sunyoung–" He looks over his shoulder, trying to catch her attention, and smiles a little when he meets her gaze. "Don't worry about the wheelchair. We've figured something out."

"I can limp, boss. No worries!" she calls out.

"Nah, it's fine," Jongdae offers, then waves at the two from a distance. His hair is a mess; his face, even more. There are more pimples on his cheeks than before. They've been staying up for shoots later than the usual, after all. Still, Kyungsoo sort of wants to reach out and smooth his thumbs over Jongdae's skin, try to wipe off those scars of all those long nights away. "Take the wheelchair. There will be less strain on your back and your legs. And you want to get better faster, right?" He ruffles Sunyoung's hair, and Sunyoung makes this tiny mewling sound at the back of her throat. "Seriously, between the two of us, aren't you supposed to be the one with medical experience or something?"

Sunyoung looks up at Jongdae with a frown. Kyungsoo grips his fountain pen in his hand and scribbles 'understanding each other on a different level, _knowing_ each other's needs' on the paper. He underlines 'on a different level' twice, and Baekhyun laughs at him. "Seriously, Soo. _Seriously._ "

"Notes," is the only thing Kyungsoo says in defense. He drops his gaze back to the paper and finds a tiny note in the corner that says 'Jongdae smiles at her the way he used to smile when he was still young'. He tears that part off, crumples it until it's reduced to a speck of paper. He stuffs it in his back pocket, then, along with the small smile that Jongdae offers him when he looks up from where he's been working in new things in the script. Making things work. Making Sunyoung and Jongdae work.

He draws tiny hearts from Sunyoung's name to Jongdae's on the other side of the paper. It looks more like an ugly scribble than anything else.

It isn't until the following week that they finalize the new script, new twists to the plot and all. Kyungsoo takes it as an opportunity to work on the fillers and go back to review the footages they've already taken to see if they're missing on certain shots taken from specific angles. Sehun gets a new segment in the script where he takes Sunyoung through 'Junho-hyung's' history in Junho's room while Junho was having one of his consultation hours with Joonmyun. He shows her photos, a scrapbook of Junho's trip to France that was sponsored by the school, that one time when Junho was elected as a delegate to a student congress in Barcelona–

"Cut! Camera A, I said _half-body,_ not a wide angle shot. Take the shot from the torso and up," he says. He fixes the position of the dolly, then talks to the second cameraman, asks him to go for a high-angle shot, close crop. "Pan from left to right _slowly_ – Okay, that's right–" Kyungsoo leans closer, nips on his index finger a little as he holds his breath. "Now stop, then shift the focus to the picture they're reviewing. Deep depth of field. Blur the foreground. We're not touching this in post."

He hears a series of footsteps from behind. He doesn't look over his shoulder yet, until he gets a good ten seconds of the camera focused on the picture. By now, he can close his eyes and still see Jongdae's sixteen-year-old face at the back of his eyelids. "And... cut! We'll do shot 46 after the break. Fifteen minutes. Take a piss and take a donut. There's food outside."

There's the collective sound of people cheering. On the other side of the set, Baekhyun flashes two thumbs at him and mouths, 'I've got the golden script ready!' Kyungsoo answers with a smile.

Kyungsoo resurfaces from the buffet area with a tray of food and coffee in hand. He'd gotten four cups, just to be sure. If previous experience is anything to go by then finishing two cups each during a heated discussion in fifteen minutes is possible for him and Baekhyun. Easy as pie. They can even go for two and a half, drinking coffee like water or breathing it in like air. Their best record back in university is five minutes per cup. It was finals season then, and they had to stay awake for 48 straight hours because it's hard to regain your editing momentum after losing it to a bad case of coughs and colds for a week. Kyungsoo's hands wouldn't stop shaking even after they'd passed the final mastered video. Baekhyun had the worst palpitations after that. They never did it again.

So Baekhyun invites Jongdae and Sunyoung to their tiny session. Kyungsoo tries to get a hold of Sehun, but he's probably disappeared for a quick gaming session with Joonmyun. Minseok's slumped in a corner, taking a nap. He came from an eight-hour shoot before this; it's a miracle he was up and about earlier for his scenes. Baekhyun arranges the cups on the table as if he's decorating it. Kyungsoo lays the plate of donuts down in the middle then nudges Baekhyun in his side.

"The one on top's the strawberry-filled one. You still like that, right?" he asks.

"Oh. Well." Baekhyun scratches the slope of his neck. "I eat everything so–"

"If you don't like it, I'll eat it."

Baekhyun chuckles. "I'll take it," he says, then reaches for it with a paper towel. "You got the biggest one, right?"

Kyungsoo blows at his bangs. Baekhyun's grinning at him, pink gums peeking. He still has those canines. He's never outgrown them. "Yeah, that's the biggest," he says. Baekhyun nods in appreciation, then gives him the honey-glazed donut. "Director perks."

"So that's why we were left with the tiny munchkins," comes a familiar voice from behind. The sound of tires screeching has become a staple now; Kyungsoo wishes it didn't have to be the case. Still, he turns around and offers Sunyoung a small smile. When he looks up, his eyes are drawn to Jongdae's gaze. "You saved some for us, boss? Unless you and Baekhyunnie are gonna finish everything."

"Nah, he can't eat more than one donut to save his life," Baekhyun mumbles. He exchanges high-fives with Jongdae and pinches Sunyoung in the arm. He sticks his tongue out at her, too. "Pizza, however, is an entirely different thing."

"Oh yeah?" Jongdae locks the wheels of Sunyoung's chair, then settles on the seat beside Kyungsoo's. He folds one leg under his weight and sways from side to side. "Why have we never had pizza for catering, then?"

"Because it's our responsibility _as the production team–_ " Kyungsoo swats Baekhyun's hand away when he sees him reaching for another donut. Sunyoung laughs a little and makes a show of enjoying the donut in front of Baekhyun. "To keep you healthy by feeding you good food. So we can make you stay on location until midnight without feeling bad about it."

Jongdae rolls his eyes and leans in, hovering for a moment, but soon he's pulling away, the tiny upward curl on the corners of his smoothened into a thin, thin line.

Baekhyun takes them through the tweaked script after the first sip of his coffee. He still has Kyungsoo's notes at the back of the original script from when they're had a brainstorming session a week ago, has sticky notes with comments scribbled on it. From where Kyungsoo is, he can make out a couple of symbols and exclamation points. 'HELPING EACH OTHER VERY IMPORTANT DON'T FORGET!!!,' one of the notes says. It's the only one written on a pink Post-it.

"So as Kyungsoo mentioned last week, the major change will be in Sunyoung's character. So we're changing the way we... 'attack' the story," Baekhyun explains, using air quotes for emphasis. "Not necessarily the plot, but the way the characters handle the situation. This is interesting because Sunyoung's character comes off as this really nice girl who's very... chill and chatty and happy 100% of the time–"

"Very engaging, too," Kyungsoo adds. He draws a circle on the part in the script where Sunyoung first appears. There's a description of her hand gestures there. Sunyoung portrayed that scene well. "So one of the major changes after the accident your character gets involved in," he begins, turning to face Sunyoung. "Is the lack of enthusiasm in doing things. Less of the stutter in the speech and more of the long pauses. If you can, remove the lilt in your voice when you deliver her lines." He catches his bottom lip between his thumb and index finger. He pinches it, then, as he searches for more words – Sunyoung's character hasn't fallen from grace; she's just going through another tough phase in her life because she can handle it. She can help herself. And it's time for her to allow other people to help her, as well.

"Junho, being the perpetually curious person that he is, catches that and starts observing you more," he continues. He shifts in his seat, now facing Jongdae. "And maybe part of your subconscious recognizes this as something that once happened to you after the accident your parents got into. Before you and Junsu became close and inseparable. And because you don't want Sunyoung to suffer the same fate, you try to help her. But before that–"

Baekhyun chuckles and rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "You've been reading over my shoulder, haven't you?" he whispers in Kyungsoo's ear, lips brushing just lightly along the its shell. Kyungsoo gives his head a quick yet tiny shake. Baekyung hums, then, clears his throat, and finishes what Kyungsoo was saying earlier. "You have to help yourself, first. Finally take some of the meds and stop relapsing to that summer night."

Jongdae raises both eyebrows and leans back. He nods, slow and deliberate, before leaning in again and moving even closer to the table. "'That's really nice. I like the 'help me help you' thing going on in the new script. It makes the movie more meaningful. Hits too hard and too close to home, though, but–"

The corners of Baekhyun's lips tug up, wild and violent. Kyungsoo can feel the shift of Baekhyun's muscles against his nape, can feel small puffs of hot air Baekhyun blows into Kyungsoo's neck when he breathes out. He can feel the pull on his cheeks, as well, the thin veil of warmth settling on his skin and wrapping around him like a quilt. And he can see the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips, the way he parts them then presses them together then parts his lips again like he's still trying to decide between just saying 'yes, I like it, let's go with it' and the magic word for 'there's just _one thing_ '. The answer is there, dancing on the jut of his bottom lip as he catches his it between his teeth. He just has to cough it out or relax the corners of his mouth, unlock his jaw, catch his breath.

"But?" Kyungsoo asks, then, choking on his own breath. He breathes in deep, keeps all the air in his lungs trapped right there where his chest feels the fullest. He can feel his pulse throbbing behind his ears, in his temples, on the pads of his thumbs.

Jongdae holds Kyungsoo's gaze through the slits of his bangs. "But this is a film, not real life, so who the hell cares," Jongdae whispers. Then he grins, the corners of his lips curling even more. It reaches the corners of his eyes and makes them crinkle. It looks a bit strained, though. "I'm pretty damn sure it will be great."

Kyungsoo lets out a loud exhale and lets his shoulders fall forward. "It will be," he replies. He crackles his knuckles and nods, promising, "It will be best film you've ever been part of."

The alarm he's set on his phone goes off. The shrill sound fills his ears, makes him shake and shiver. He keeps his eyes open, though, not breaking eye contact with Jongdae as Jongdae lets his lips fall open to reveal and even brighter smile. There's a voice at the back of his head, a young boy telling him, 'Hey, hey! Don't close your eyes, kid– Look out!' It sounds familiar. It could be him hearing himself talking. Or maybe his brother, but then Seungsoo's voice has never been that shrill. And he may forget names, but voices and faces never escape him. So he doesn't look away even as he reaches for his phone deep in his pocket, even as he pulls it out and swipes to the left to turn off the alarm. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae, trying to form a clearer image in his mind – of the boy calling him and telling him to save himself, run, _quick,_ an image to match this bright voice that's been haunting him for months. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae long enough to see him press his lips together again and nod before looking away.

He sees nothing but the image of Jongdae's smile at the back of his eye lids. When he drops his gaze to his coffee, he sees the ghost of Jongdae's face in the swirl of the black liquid staring straight at him.

ö

They nail three scenes of the revised script before midnight. They're the easier ones, mostly transition scenes since they need ambient daylight for the 'key scenes' where Sunyoung and Jongdae's relationship is developed. Joonmyun slips out of his lab coat but keeps the glasses on, saying that he can actually see better when he's wearing them. Sehun teases him about it, bumps his hip into Joonmyun's and sticks out his tongue at the elder when Joonmyun groans at him. "One of hyung's 'fans' actually snapped a picture of him during the break. He had his glasses on and they… thought it was cute," Sehun reveals. He worries his bottom lip for a moment, then continues, "That's why #GlassesMyunIsJjang trended earlier. This afternoon. 5:14 p.m.."

"Nobody's asking for the time," Kyungsoo comments. He reaches over to grab his bag, then pinches Sehun in his side somewhere along the way. "I'm not surprised that you remembered, though."

"Yeah. He's a _darling._ " Baekhyun drawls the last word and rolls his eyes in accord. He steps to his side, narrowly eluding the jab Sehun throws his way, but ends up tripping on Joonmyun's outstretched leg. "Whoa, _what?_ I tease maknae and I get shit for it. I praise him and you _trip_ me–"

"Half the time, I can't tell when you're teasing someone and actually expressing admiration for them," Jongdae says. He slips between Baekhyun and Kyungsoo, then slides his arms around their shoulders. He gives Kyungsoo's arm a light squeeze. "But you know, maknae _is_ the sweetest _especially_ when he's talking to–"

"I'm quitting this production! Resigning, right now!" Sehun goes straight for the pile of bags near Joonmyun's feet and mumbles an apology when he hits Joonmyun's leg in his quest for his things. Joonmyun only hums and ruffles Sehun's hair in response. "Then I'll make #BurnBaekhyun trend and it will go down in history as the best and most memorable hashtag ever!"

"You mean _#BestBaekhyun,_ right?" Baekhyun calls out after Sehun as Sehun disappears around the corner. Sehun yells one last 'fuck you' at him before leaving the set.

Kyungsoo looks around him and watches the production team turn off the studio lights, unplug the cords. A few months ago, he was part of that team, one of those people cleaning up after the cast on top of his directorial work. His cinematographer and screenplay writer would be the ones making sure that the talents hadn't left anything in the dressing rooms. His head camera man would be the one packing the leftovers from catering and distributing them to the crew. They'd finish taping at midnight but end up going home at two in the morning. Call time the following day was usually at six in the morning for talents because grind was at eight. That meant the crew should be there two hours before to make sure that the set was already _set_ for the shoot. All the talents had to do was to review their lines, practice their dialogues. Try to outdo their best take the day before and bring out the best in the character assigned to them. Bring their character to life. It wasn't easy, yes, but at least they got to focus on just one thing whereas the rest of the crew had to wear multiple hats.

At one point, Kyungsoo felt as if he was already balding. So he took the hat off. Wore his hair slicked back, instead. Fast forward months after and he can actually give the talents a pat on the back now for doing a great job instead of spending so much time packing up the heavy lights.

"We'll go ahead!" Joonmyun and Minseok call out, waving over their shoulder. Kyungsoo flashes them two thumbs up and sends them off with a nod. Minseok stops short in his tracks, then adds, "Don't forget your promise, boss!"

"You promised them something?" Baekhyun asks when he slips beside Kyungsoo. He yawns, just a tiny dollop of sound escaping his lips. "Man, I could use some coffee–"

Kyungsoo turns to his side and leans back to get a better look him. Baekhyun is wearing his glasses today, and even with the thick glasses to blur the stress a little Kyungsoo can make out Baekhyun's eye bags. They're darker now, more pronounced, and there are wrinkles under Baekhyun's eyes. There's a peculiar glint in them, though, and in the way his lips curl up before he leans his head on Kyungsoo's shoulder. "Hey. Don't fall asleep while you're standing," Kyungsoo whispers, nudging Baekhyun in his side. "I'm not carrying you to your car–"

"Shuttle service is gonna take me home tonight," Baekhyun replies. He yawns again, long and loud, and almost hits Kyungsoo in his side. "I can have you dropped off at your place. The terminal's in Hongdae, after all. No biggie."

"It's okay. I can take a cab." Kyungsoo sniffles. He can feel the surge of pressure in his lungs, crawling up his throat and exploding in his mouth until his ears feel as if they'll pop anytime soon. So he swallows the lump of air until he can feel his tongue again, until he can hear Baekhyun's shallow breathing. "They need it more than I do," he continues, nodding in the direction of the crew.

"Yeah, but they have a van of their own. And… until now?" Baekhyun frowns. He shakes his head and heaves a sigh. "Whatever. You're my responsibility. I hired you. Take the damned van."

Kyungsoo snorts. "That sounds strange coming from you." He gives into the urge to yawn this time and throws his head back, but ends up hitting Baekhyun square on the face. Baekhyun yelps and slaps Kyungsoo's chest in retaliation. In his defense, if Baekhyun hadn't shifted in his position then he wouldn't have gotten hurt. He turns around, nonetheless, cupping one of Baekhyun's cheeks and rubbing the tip of Baekhyun's nose with his thumb. "And you live farther than I do. Less stops, more time saved."

Baekhyun laughs a little. He doesn't say anything, just kind of stares at Kyungsoo like he's still trying to gather his thoughts, gather pieces of himself he'd left behind. Then he tilts his head, leaning into the touch. His skin is warm against Kyungsoo's palm. It tickles.

"I can't believe you're actually expressing concern," Baekhyun whispers. He scoffs. The jerk of his muscles makes Kyungsoo shiver. And Baekhyun seems to feel that – the stimulus, the traitorous cold seeping from the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers, the goosepimples brushing against Baekhyun's skin. "So that move away from action really meant something, huh?"

It's been weeks since Baekhyun last broached the topic, weeks since Baekhyun last told him that, 'Hey, I heard you dropped action because you already have a heart now. Is that true?' And it makes sense – the only time they get to talk is in between takes and during breaks, in the little windows of time where they're both doing everything and nothing. Baekhyun continuously reinvents the script in his head, tries to find a better way to communicate words through actions. And Kyungsoo keeps assessing assessing his actions, tries to see if there's anything that can be misinterpreted like fanatics reading too much into a gesture as simple as a deep intake of breath.

"Stop reading entertainment news. They're trash," he replies after a while.

"I haven't read anything in a while," Baekhyun answers. He presses his lips together and smiles, too tight at the corners. "Just you."

Kyungsoo gulps hard. Something flickers in Baekhyun's eyes, but it's gone as soon as Baekhyun blinks, as soon as he drops his gaze to the swell of Kyungsoo's top lip. It's one of those blink-and-you'll-miss-it things that even now, even with all the years of friendship stretched between them, Kyungsoo still doesn't have memorized. But that's what distance does to you sometimes. That's what 5 years of treading slightly similar but ultimately different paths does to friends – it takes away puzzle pieces from the picture until you're left with the important ones. The bare bones of the relationship. Just clues as to what started it all, what brought these two people together and why they're sticking around.

Jongdae squeezes his arm, hard enough to let _something_ loose and allow a violent breath of life to fill his lungs but gentle enough to coax him to lean into it soon after. Kyungsoo's body gives a tiny jerk. Jongdae leans in, then, and whispers, "I brought my car." He clears his throat, then continues, "You can ride with me, if you want."

A corner of Baekhyun's mouth curves up. "You should go with him. He's a good driver. Plays it safe all the time." He chews on his bottom lip a little, then adds, "He lives _everywhere._ "

Kyungsoo leans back a little to look at Jongdae in the eye, but only succeeds in leaning against Jongdae's chest. "Don't you live in Apgeu?"

"He has a flat everywhere," Baekhyun mumbles. He locks his arms behind his back and stretches. "One in each city. Because he gets bored of the view easily. He's like Simba – everything that the sun touches is a city where he can buy a tiny place."

"I'm plotting world domination," Jongdae replies, laughing. "It's convenient, though. Helps me change things up a bit from time to time." He looks to his side again and wiggles his eyebrows at Kyungsoo. "So boss, are you coming with me or not?"

Kyungsoo blinks a few times. Cost-cutting, he reminds himself. He needs to do that if he's planning to produce a big movie in the next two years. He needs to start now. And he'd like to see more of the look Baekhyun is fashioning at the moment – eyebrows knit in concentration, a corner of his lips curved up. Eyes focused on _him_ and nothing, no one else, like if he so much as blinks he'll miss something important. That he'll miss Kyungsoo if he so much as squints from yawning or taking a deep breath.

"Are you sure it's okay with you?" Kyungsoo asks, He digs his nails into his palms. "We came from a twelve-hour shoot. _You_ should be the one taking the van service, actually."

"Nah, I'm good. Driving helps me relax. Gets my mind off of things." Jongdae stretches his arms overhead and hums. "By the way, Baek, I can drop you off at the highway if you want. Smack in the middle. Then you can find your way to your house from there."

Baekhyun snorts. "You love me too much to do that."

Jongdae cocks an eyebrow at him. "Oh, do I?"

It's almost half past the hour now. The air is thick – with silence, with white noise, with the sound of Kyungsoo's heartbeat loud in his chest, his palms, the back of his ears. It's suffocating. It can be the mysteries of the hospital at work or the sudden lack of warmth, or the late hour. They've been filming for hours and the emotions have been controlled far too much in the scenes they've taped today. Joonmyun has mastered not laughing at Sehun's tiny missteps or Minseok stumbling on difficult words. Sunyoung has been smiling the whole day, wincing in pain only when she thinks nobody is looking. Baekhyun has been keeping a straight face more often now. He's more discerning, less reactive. And at the stroke of the clock, they're allowed a window of time to let loose and just let go. Let the emotions consume them. Feel the fatigue set off explosions at the tips of their fingers and let them succumb to the allure of the soft carpet laid down on the floor.

And Jongdae's shifting his attention to him, the same eyebrow still raised. The upward tug on his lips is softer now, less strained. More of an invitation than a direct order to _look at me, look at me and no one else._ "So, are you coming? I'm serious, I can drop you off anywhere. The highway's reserved for Baekhyun, though. Also, the area under bridges."

Kyungsoo looks at Baekhyun, then turns his gaze to Jongdae again. From a corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun rolling his eyes. Or maybe he's just imagining things. it happens sometimes – the frame of his glasses gets in the way of seeing things right. So he blinks again in the hope that whatever thin veil Baekhyun had put up around him has already disappeared, blown away by the gushing winds in summer.

"You treat me like trash," Baekhyun mumbles. "Why did I give you a job again?"

"Because I'm the best method actor you've ever met," Jongdae answers. He turns to Baekhyun to stick out his tongue, but reaches out to rest a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. " _Only_ if you want to, by the way. I mean, I have a car so might as well drive people around, right? It's too big for just one person."

"You drive a truck?"

Jongdae laughs a little. "I'll take that as a 'yes'," he replies, then hoists his bag up. "And I drive an SUV, not a truck. It's smaller than the average SUV, to be honest," he continues, finishing with a wink.

So much for thinking on his way home, Kyungsoo muses. He gives Baekhyun a wave, then turns on his heel to follow Jongdae to the parking lot.

Midnights in Gyeonggi-do are just a bit colder than those in Seoul. They're not in the upper part of Gyeonggi-do, just south of the border, but maybe it's the trees making the atmosphere cooler than it should be. And they've just come from a supposedly haunted hospital – that, alone, makes the Gonjiam-eup part of Gyeonggi-do much colder than central Seoul. He ties his bangs with a band and presses down on it, wearing his beanie, then zips up his jacket. It's one of those strange summer days again, where it's deathly cold and wet at night and dry in the morning.

Kyungsoo laughs to himself. It's almost like being back in Donghae-si, where he can look out into the horizon and tell himself that he's so close to Japan that he might as well be there already  
, tasting its waters. But then he looks over his shoulder remembers that he's still in Seoul. Then the sea that was once a friend turns into an enemy, a bringer of distance, pushing him further away from that country _over there_ with its forceful waves.

A tiny beep, then he hears the sound of something being opened. "You can dump your things at the back, if you want," Jongdae mentions. He ducks inside his car but sticks out his head again as he says, "You alright, boss? Left something at the set?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He leaves his ghosts behind at the end of every shooting day in the same way that he removes his cape after every action movie shoot. It's deliberate. He doesn't have a choice. It's one of those things you're forced to do that you're actually comfortable with. He likes drawing a line between work and life, between film and reality.

He takes a deep breath, then shakes his head. "I'm all set." He gets inside the car, then, and drops his bag on the floor. He makes sure to wear his seatbelt, double-checks if it's been fastened properly. "Thank you for offering, by the way."

"No biggie," Jongdae says, then starts the engine. He reaches forward for something, then hands Kyungsoo an iPod. "Feel free to choose. I don't have any of those crappy songs in Baekhyun's playlist. I mean the 90's drama hits." He hits the hazard button, then looks over his shoulder. "So you don't have to worry about bad music."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Baekhyun has questionable taste in music, but it's not entirely atrocious. Kyungsoo likes a handful of boyband songs; he just won't admit it, not in the near future.

They hit the road close to a quarter until 1 a.m.. Jongdae _is_ a careful driver, always looking to his left and right before turning a right, a left, before crossing an intersection. He's pretty 'chill', too, even when someone cuts and speeds past him, horns blaring in the streets and all. He shrugs them off and keeps his eyes on the room, glancing at Kyungsoo only when they stop at traffic sights. At one point, Jongdae turns up the volume to drown out the crazy honking outside. It's midnight and yet people are still in a rush to go to places, get things done, run across the street even before the pedestrian light flashes green. Jongdae mumbles, then, says something under his breath about lack of discipline and regard for the rules. "And this is why a lot of accidents happen at this hour," Jongdae says, humming. He steps on the breaks at the same time that someone waltzes to the other side of the intersection. " _Wow._ Look, kid: if you can't handle your alcohol then drop the bottle–"

She places the bottle down on the ground, with only a couple more inches until she reaches the other side. Jongdae groans. "Oh _God,_ " he whispers, then rests his forehead on his clasped hands on the wheel. He thunks his head too hard on his knuckles. "Oh _God._ "

Britney Spears starts singing on the stereo. She's taking pride in being stronger than yesterday. Kyungsoo laughs a little and turns up the volume. When Jongdae surfaces, he squints his eyes at Kyungsoo and sticks out his tongue. The girl has already reached the other side of the road. Jongdae gets out of his car to remove the bottle from the road and lets out a long exhale before clutching the steering wheel again.

The trip is silent. More like they talk about things, but Jongdae doesn't go beyond the 'yes and no's of his questions. "So, how's directing a horror movie for you so far? Enjoying it?" "Yeah. It's fun. Different from action." "How about the crew? They… aren't the ones you work with on a regular basis, right?" "Yeah. But they're great. Very efficient, actually. They might be the best team I've worked so far." "And you've worked with a lot of teams." "Yeah." He could've easily asked what makes them efficient, what makes them the best, but he doesn't. If ever wants to, he only hovers when they reach a red light then sinks right back in his seat and drums his fingers on the wheel. It's almost comforting, the way Kyungsoo doesn't have to explain himself and just talk when needed. It isn't a leisure you have when you're a director. When you're sitting on that chair, calling the shots and making some big decisions, you have to explain all the reasons behind your decision. You have to make everyone understand. You have to convince them that what you're doing is for the greater good of everyone and the production, not just for your sanity. Half the time, it's thrilling. The feeling of being completely in control, the surge of power through his veins – it feels amazing. The dry, sore throat that comes after it is the worst part.

Jongdae hits the brakes at a red light. Ninety seconds 'til they can get a move on. "I see you like Sheppard," Jongdae says, voice so soft he could've been whispering. But Kyungsoo's not tired enough to be imagining things. And Jongdae's voice soars high above the opening notes of 'This Electric Feeling'. Months into filming alongside Jongdae and Kyungsoo already knows the secrets of Jongdae's voice, its lilts, its wicked highs and lows. He knows that the breathy words mean Jongdae's really trying to get into character. 'Just a little more. Five minutes? Wait–' He knows that the low humming means Jongdae is thinking about the whole scene and not just his lines. Jongdae's that kind of actor – he immerses himself in his character and turns this guy, this Kim Junho, into someone real. And he makes people feel that. In turn, he raises the bar and pushes people to work harder. To be a better version of themselves.

Jongdae blinks several times and chuckles. From where Kyungsoo is, he can see how long Jongdae's eyelashes are. The light from the lamp post catches on its tips, casts lines of light on his cheeks. The bright lights from the car on the other side of the road set Jongdae aglow.

Kyungsoo squints. It's one in the morning. He's just come from a long shoot, and he's tired. Give it a rest, he tells himself. Stop thinking. And stop making it obvious that you are. He meets Jongdae's eyes, then, shifting his gaze a little from where he's been tracing the gentle curve of Jongdae's eyelashes. "Hmm?"

"You have this… really cute thinking face," Jongdae answers. He scrunches his face a little, and his nose gives a funny twitch. The corners of his mouth are tight, twisted in a frown, but there's a hint of a smile in the way his cheeks tug up. And his eyes are crinkling at the corners. "Like this, except… Ah, I don't know how to describe it but _you know–_ "

Kyungsoo snorts. "I don't stare at myself in the mirror."

"Oh? Well." Jongdae twist his mouth, bottom lip jutting out. The headlights on the other side of the road are no longer at full brightness. He can see Jongdae better now, no longer washed out, and Jongdae's lips are a soft shade of red. Or pink. _It's 1 a.m.._ "You have a cute thinking face. That's it. I won't attempt to describe it anymore." Jongdae purses his lips, hollowing out his cheeks a little. He looks like a lost kid, one whose lollipop has been snatched by a kid–

Or maybe a kid who's trying to shield another kid from harm. A kid who's warding bullies off, saying, 'Hey, that's rude. You know what? He's not weird. _You guys_ are!' A kid who's running a hand down his spine and fluffing his hair with the other as he says, 'Sorry I couldn't be here sooner. I–' A hitch of the breath, and then, 'Do you… want some ice cream?'

"Where do you live?" Kyungsoo asks. Jongdae's eyes widen, but only for a split-second. Soon, he's tilting his head and smiling a little and he's narrowing his eyes like he's _looking_ for something. A small window of opportunity, a hint, a clue, a sign that the red light will turn to green soon – Kyungsoo can't tell. All he knows is that he can see himself in Jongdae's eyes right now and _there,_ that's his thinking face.

It isn't cute, he wants to say. It's weird and it looks like someone from the past, a persona he's long grown out of. A character in a film about a kid who's always been deemed as 'the weird one' by his playmates because he didn't want to play rough like everyone else. He won best actor in a brooding role. It's not something he can brag about. It's something he wants to _change._

"Well, it depends on my mood? Or my taping schedule." Jongdae looks up at the counter and Kyungsoo glances at it from the corner of his eye. 20 seconds. "What do you mean 'where do I live'?"

"Your hometown. Or a province, if you weren't raised in the city." Kyungsoo rubs the tip of his nose. Jongdae's lips quiver a bit, then he lets out a light laugh. It fades out into steady humming. "Jeolla-do? Chungcheong-do?"

"Gangwon-do," Jongdae answers. The tight knot of his lips ease into a small smile. "In a little town south of Gangneung-si. It's a cozy place."

The light turns green. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Jongdae turns to face front and grips the shift stick tight. The slant and slight parting of his lips says, come closer, I have something to say. The way his eyes fix on the road says, but if you could wait a while, that would be great.

"Donghae-si's a pretty nice place," Jongdae says. He hums for a while, then adds, "I kinda miss it."

"You... once lived in Donghae-si," Kyungsoo whispers.

"Mhmm. I spent my childhood there. Until before middle school, if I remember correctly?" Jongdae slows down at an intersection. Kyungsoo breathes out, heavy and noisy through his nose. A tickling sensation wraps around the walls of his throat, and he coughs a little. "Did a lot of fishing and beach volleyball and _seashell picking–_ "

"Visiting a playground from time to time? The one near the border to Gangneung-si." He sniffles. "Biggest playground in the province. Not counting the beaches, of course."

Jongdae risks a glance at him before turning left at a corner. "Yeah. I remember something like that," he mentions. He clears his throat and asks, "You… know Donghae-si?"

Kyungsoo presses his lips thinly together. He doesn't just _know_ Donghae-si. He was raised there – raised in the cool sandy beach, raised by the waves. When he couldn't play in the playground with the other kids, he'd run to the beach and claim the whole place as his. It was his own sand pit, a really big one. So it was a blessing in disguise – by being cast away by those cool kids in the park, he found home in the sands of the beach. By being pushed away, he found himself leaning against someone whose smile was so infectious that Kyungsoo could never _ever_ resist smiling back.

"It's my hometown," Kyungsoo answers. He takes a deep breath and leans back. "But my family has already moved to Seoul. I'm the only one who lives in Gyeonggi-do. The metro's too… busy for me."

Jongdae snorts. "I feel you, man. Seoul's pretty crazy sometimes. It's nice to have some peace and quiet from time to time. Someplace to think." He activates the turn signal and maneuvers to the left. "But it's been years since I've last been to Donghae-si. Ten? Or more?" He loosens his grip on the steering wheel and lets it slide in the small fist of his hands. "Not since my father got reassigned to Seoul–"

Not since Kyungsoo was ten and Jongdae was eleven. Or not since that other kid, the only one who played with Kyungsoo, was eleven. It was once fine day in summer then, and Kyungsoo was wearing this new cap his friend gave him the day before. His friend promised to be there, meet up for the last time before 'going somewhere far away because appa said so'. Seoul wasn't far. It was only eight, nine hours away by bus. If Kyungsoo wanted to, he could come over and stay for a couple of hours, then return to Donghae-si without his mother freaking out. If his friend wanted to keep in touch and keep Kyungsoo as a friend, he'd have given Kyungsoo his name. But they were kids, and as a kid the reason, 'But how can I be your superhero if you know my name? That's not how it works. It takes away the mys– Mystery? Yeah, the mystery!' made sense. He should've known better, tried to ask for a name to put to the face. Tried to repay his hero with something more than a stuttered 'thank you' and a share of his ice cream.

Kyungsoo swallows hard. He can see the playground in Anyang-si now, the steel railing running along the slide, the orange bars, the sturdy structure. The place he'd spent most of his weekends in when his family moved to Gyeonggi-do – not quite Seoul but close enough – in the hope that he'd run into a friend from the past. A friend from the beach, from two decades ago.

"I can get off here. My place is just five minutes away," he says, shifting in his seat. He gathers his things in a rush, and a pack of gum falls out from the front pocket of his backpack. He feels around for it, any sign of a canister of mints, but to no avail – he can't see in the dark. His glasses are slipping off the bridge of his nose and shit, he should've had the foresight to zip up his bag or use an oil blotter because his face gets realy oily after a long day–

"Lemme help," Jongdae says, then pulls over just beside the playground. Kyungsoo looks up, then, ready to tell Jondgae off because it's just a stupid pack of gum, who cares, but soon Jongdae's tracing the curve of Kyungsoo's face with his fingers, studying his face through half-lidded eyes. The corners of Jongdae's lips tug up a little, but when aren't they curled up just the slightest? Right now, his lips are doing that thing again where Jongdae's halfway out the door and halfway inside the room, half of his mouth twisted in a way that makes him look as if he wants to lean closer – _yes, closer_. In a way that makes Jongdae look as if he's finally found what he's looking for, that undetectable speck of sand scratching the surface of his glasses and keeping him from seeing clearly. The sand in his eyes being carried away by the wind.

Jongdae gives Kyungsoo's chin a light pinch, then pulls him closer. He lifts his free hand, then, and grazes his nail along the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose before settling on the arc of his glasses. Kyungsoo scrunches his nose at the friction, but that doesn't deter Jongdae from pressing on. His gaze falls further south, resting on the giving bow of Kyungsoo's mouth. Kyungsoo can feel his lips quivering, a tiny tremble that tickles his teeth. A sensation that makes his throat go dry and then clench and then constrict. He curls his fingers one by one, balling his hands into fists. And Jongdae leans even closer, applying pressure on the arc. He's pushing it up, up, _up,_ and he's closing the distance between them with every forward motion. Jongdae's less than a touch, a breath away, and he's close, too close that Kyungsoo can see the cracks on Jongdae's lips, the bleeding between the dry skin, the curl of his mouth at the corners and the way Jongdae darts out his tongue to lick the back of his lips.

"Better?" Jongdae asks. His finger is steady on Kyungsoo's glasses. But it's cold. His lips pull up into an easy smile.

Kyungsoo presses his lips together. He can see the tiny blemishes on Jongdae's cheeks, reminders of late nights at work and eary morning coffee sessions. And that they still need to get up early for tomorrow's session because they need the ambient light. He can see the dark circles under Jongdae's eyes and they way Jongdae's eyes _still_ sparkle. He can see clearly now. He can't breathe.

"Better," Kyungsoo whispers. He takes a deep breath. Something shifts on his lap. The press of Jongdae's palm on his thigh is warm. It's a nice contrast to the prickling cold on the pads of his fingers. "Better than before."

Jongdae takes a deep breath, then pulls away. "Good," he says, breathy, then leans back in his seat. The doors are still locked, and he hasn't pressed the hazard button yet. The engine is still running. "Where exactly is your house? Shouldn't be too far from here, yeah?"

"I'm serious. I can walk."

"And I'm serious, too," Jongdae counters. "I just want to make sure you get home safely. Wouldn't want our cute little director to get lost, mhmm?"

There are a number of ways that Kyungsoo can answer that – 'Are you my mom?' or 'I'm not a kid' or 'Why do you care?' – but it's already past midnight. They're both tired. They're too relenting. So Kyungsoo nods, saying, "Straight ahead," and doesn't forget to mumble once Jongdae gets the gas started again, "Thanks."

Jongdae shrugs. He's looking back at the street and his headlights are turned up high. The smile on his lips, too wild and toothy, is still even brighter. The most radiant, most flattering light that sets Jongdae aglow but washes him out soon after. So Kyungsoo drops his gaze to his feet to avoid the onset of the glare and to ease his eyes into the habit of marveling at something bright.

He looks up at Jongdae, but only through the slits of his bangs this time. Still, he squints when Jongdae risks a glance at him and addresses him with a soft upward curl of the lip. This isn't 'straight ahead', Kyungsoo muses as Jongdae speeds up a little. This is heading heart-first into the unknown with no plans, no map to guide them, only a probability of crashing with no chance of survival.

He catches Jongdae looking and bites the inside of his cheek. Jongdae shifts to the first gear and steps on the gas. The tires screech against the streets. The heavy thrumming in Kyungsoo's chest soars above the engine noise and Jongdae's steady humming beside him.

ö

_it's him,_ he types in Chanyeol's message box. _i'm dead sure it's him. it can't be anyone else._

Kyungsoo slips his phone under his pillow and lies flat on his back. It's half past two in the morning and it's been a good thirty minutes since Jongdae had dropped him off at his house. The first thing Jongdae said was, "A yellow house. Really. _Yellow?_ " The second, "It suits you." A slow nod of the head, then a cursory glance. "It really suits you," he'd repeated, like he'd just come to terms that his assessment of the house was good and acceptable. Like he's known Kyungsoo for a while now, even before Kyungsoo held in his hands a camera that wasn't the same shape and size as that of his trusty VX 2100 because 'no one uses tape anymore, Kyungsoo.' It was such an off-hand comment that Kyungsoo didn't know the best way to reply to it, if at all. So he shrugged. Got off the car and bid Jongdae a good night. Told him, "Drop me a message when you get home," even if the better half of his senses kept telling him not to push through with it. Jongdae is his talent. He's the director, the big boss. It's his responsibility to make sure that his staff and cast get home safely after a long day, twelve grueling hours of taping with only short breaks in between for coffee. There's nothing wrong with wanting to be sure that Jongdae makes it to his flat wherever in one piece.

His phone gives a beep, and then another. Kyungsoo blinks several times, trying to refocus his vision. He feels around for his phone, then, and grips it tight as he unlocks the device. Jongdae's name flashes in the notifications panel – just Jongdae's and no one else's. The first message says, _home!! glad you're home and safe, boss c:_ The second message, _i'm staying in apgeu today btw. want to grab breakfast tomorrow before going to the location?_

Kyungsoo blows at his bangs. He only succeeds at blowing cool breath into his nose. It tickles. _where?,_ he then types in reply, and hits send even before he can think twice. He's just about to set his phone down on his chest when it beeps one more time.

_anywhere you want c: sinsa? there are better coffee places in itaewon, though. if you're willing to travel that far at an early hour, at least._

Tempting, but there's work to be done. He's supposed to get up early for work, not to enjoy coffee and play catch up with an old friend who might not even be the same old friend Kyungsoo thinks he is. So Kyungsoo types, _cork for turtle might be your type. they have sweet coffee there._

_you really remember my coffee order, huh? c:_

Kyungsoo snorts. _it's convoluted. i just know you like sweet things._

_of course, you would,_ Jongdae replies. Kyungsoo yawns, stretching his arms over his head, and his phone beeps another time. This one shakes him awake, startles him out of lethargy despite the warm wrap of his comforters around him. _and you're classic americano. it suits you, it really does. c:_

'And you'd know because?' Kyungsoo wants to ask, but he doesn't. Instead, he types up a message then lays his phone down on his bedside table. He turns off the light, and darkness begins to crawl from the tips of his toes then up, begins to seep through his skin like tiny packets of coldness set to explode inside him. But he's warm. The comforters are keeping him warm and alive and he hasn't lost the feeling in his hands just yet. So he pulls his blanket up to his top lip, then his nose, and then his eyes, up, up, _up_ until he can covers his face with pristine sheets.

His phone beeps again on the table. He pokes one eye open. The urge to reach for his phone to check what Jongdae has just said is strong, but he files that to the back of his mind. If he wants to get up early _for work,_ then he needs to sleep now. He doesn't need distractions, cannot afford distractions. What he needs is a good night's rest and something to look forward to in the morning. He shuts his eyes, then, so tight that nothing but darkness seeps through the corners. This is the only line of defense he has left. All the walls he's built around himself – his friends have broken those down, chipped at them until his walls cracked and crumbled with no hope of ever being restored.

He splays his fingers on the cushion and takes a deep breath. The gaping lack of warmth between his fingers, slotting itself in the webs of Kyungsoo's hands, sends shivers down his spine. The image of Jongdae's smile – bright and blinding – at the back of his eyelids makes him shake all over. Jongdae's soft, steady humming, a recording at the back of his mind, is what lulls him to sleep.

ö

Sinsadong is quiet and calm at eight in the morning. Most of the restaurants aren't open yet, but the coffee shops in the area already are. Kyungsoo had passed A Twosome Place earlier and spotted two familiar faces – possibly stars in a drama who'd just come from an overnight shoot. A few meters away, he bumped into an old crew member exiting Starbucks. "You look better," was the only thing the man told him. Kyungsoo laughed a little, tried to swallow the last few strands of laughter spilling from his lips. At the end of their quick chat, he told the man, "We're releasing a new film next year, in spring. It will be great."

"You mean scary, right?" the man asked. Half of his mouth was still twisted in laughter. The other half looked unsettled, undecided. Kyungsoo wanted to reach over and push the tight corner of his lips up. "I heard you've moved on from action and shifted to horror. Hoping to challenge yourself?"

"I just want to try something new," was all Kyungsoo said in reply. Then he gave the man a curt nod and bid him goodbye. It was a little past eight in the morning then; he promised Jongdae that he'd be there are 8 a.m. sharp.

"Sorry, had to look for good parking!" Jongdae says now as he emerges from the doors of Cork for Turtle. His hair is a mess, sticking out in several different directions, but there's a semblance of order to it. _Style._ "I can't believe it, almost every spot here is taken," he goes on to say and slips out of his jacket. He holds it by the shoulders and folds it in a square twice the size of his hands. Kyungsoo reaches out and smoothens the creases on the fold. "It's just, what, 8 a.m.? You'd think that people won't be up yet at this time, but no–" 

"Times have changed. 8 a.m.'s pretty late for a Gangnam breakfast appointment," Kyungsoo says. It's true – Cork for Turtle has moved their opening time to 7 a.m. to accommodate diners. They then pushed back the closing time to 11 p.m.. It's close to impossible to get a cab so easily at that late an hour in Gangnam, after all. If they were still living in the early 2000's, maybe, but this isn't the same old Gangnam that Kyungsoo first marveled at. Gangnam has changed, transformed along with the people inhabiting it. Or maybe it's the people that Gangnam has changed. "The wasabi latte is great."

"So I've heard," Jongdae says, then reaches for the menu. His fingers, cool and stiff, ghost over Kyungsoo's warm skin. Kyungsoo shivers a little, but masks it with a yawn that he stifles by biting the back of his hand. "Have you ever tried it?"

"A couple of years ago. When I was still in university." What he means is, it was one of Baekhyun's favorite drinks back when they were still young. The only time he's ever tasted it is from Baekhyun's lips. Strawberry was still Baekhyun's signature flavor, though. Smoke and strawberry and sins. "It tastes weird at first but you'll get the hang of it."

Jongdae squints, leaning in for a while, then leans back. "Nah, I think I'll pass," he says, and orders a vanilla latte, instead.

Jongdae isn't the most talkative company in the morning. Between breaks during shoots, he always has a lot of stories to tell – about the shoots he's attended before, funny things that have happened to him in the past, the rationale behind his outfit today – but between seven and eleven in the morning, he only ever responds with small smiles and a curt nod. His sentences are short, concise, and his voice is void of its usual lilts, the gradual rise in tone and the abrupt drops before it peaks again. And the corners of his mouth are tied in a tight knot, like he's been given orders to not smile and bare his teeth.

He _is_ generous with touches, though. He asks Kyungsoo about the scenes they're shooting today and reaches for Kyungsoo's hands over the table. He rubs small circles on the sides of Kyungsoo's fingers but doesn't quite hold onto him, just stays there with their fingers touching, _grazing_ each other. And he stares a while longer, like there's something he can't discern in the short time that their gazes meet so he leans closer to get a better look at Kyungsoo. But then affection comes to Jongdae just as naturally as breathing does to man – he can ruffle Sunyoung's hair and pinch her cheeks and whisper in her ear and it won't mean a thing. He can hold Kyungsoo's hands and pull away at the first sign of servers drawing closer to their table, then reach out to hold them longer and _it won't mean anything at all._

"Better drink your coffee while it's hot," Kyungsoo mumbles, nodding in the direction of Jongdae's coffee cup. It was served ten minutes ago and Jongdae hasn't even touched it; it will get cold in a while. They've been here in the coffee shop for thirty minutes now and their call time is at ten; they don't have much time. "A latte doesn't taste as good when it's lukewarm."

"Oh, so you've tried other drinks? Mixes and sweet blends?" Jongdae reaches for the vanilla power and adds a dash to his drink. He takes some cinnamon powder, too, and sprinkles it on top. "For a minute, you had me thinking you were one of those purist coffee drinkers who only stick to their 'perfect black coffee'."

The last time anyone ever joked about Kyungsoo's affinity for coffee was in university. Chanyeol accidentally picked up the other group's order instead of theirs and was left with a plain latte, a cappuccino, and a caramel macchiato. Chanyeol claimed dibs on the cappuccino and Baekhyun snatched the macchiato at the first opportunity. And Kyungsoo remembers staring down at the tiny heart latte art on the foam. It was the best latte he's ever tasted, and the most experimental one at that. It took him a good two tablespoons of cinnamon to rid the coffee of the creamy taste and reduce it to the bare bones of the coffee flavor – something dark, rich. Something that tastes a lot like his usual Americano and not the too-milky latte.

"So your latte's good now?" Baekhyun had asked. His lips were red from being worried too much, from being bitten too hard to keep himself from cackling.

"You have to see for yourself," Kyungsoo replied. He looked around for an audience and leaned closer, close enough that Baekhyun could dart of his tongue and taste hints of coffee on Kyungsoo's lips. Close enough that all Baekhyun had to do was to inch closer and their mouths would meet in an inelegant dance, a crashing of lips against lips. Baekhyun's tongue, hot and heavy and on a quest for _something_ licking every inch of coffee off of Kyungsoo's mouth so Kyungsoo could taste like Baekhyun again.

Kyungsoo cracks his neck now and laughs a little. It's a conscious decision to stick to black coffee and nothing else. It's almost like a habit now – he can walk to his kitchen and load up the coffee in his coffee machine to make himself a nice cup of basic black without giving it much thought. So he replies, "I am a purist coffee drinker," then takes a sip of his Americano. "And I'm your boss, so _again:_ drink your coffee now so we can leave in ten minutes."

Jongdae holds his gaze for a moment, leans in, then leans back against his seat. "Baekhyun was right: you do have a way with convincing people that your way is the only way to do things," he says, then sinks his lips in his drink. He takes a sip, and another, and another, until the liquid scalds his tongue and he yelps in response. " _Fuck._ "

"Careful," it slips from Kyungsoo's lips. He drops his eyes to the two sunny side ups beaming at him from his place and scores a line along the middle of one egg. "I said eat fast, not burn your tongue."

"It's the same thing," Jongdae groans. He hasn't stopped drinking his coffee yet, though, and his speech is clearer now. His syllables are no longer muffled by sleep and fatigue. And there's the same glint in the way his crinkles his eyes again, like the coffee has suddenly breathed life into him. "But wow, this tastes great."

It does, Kyungsoo muses when he risks a glance at Jongdae. There's a question written on the curve of Jongdae's lips, in the way he juts out his bottom lip and sucks in his cheeks. A blink and then it's gone, replaced instead by the food that Jongdae's stuffing in his mouth.

Kyungsoo turns his attention to the eggs, and carefully slices one sunny side up like he would a pizza. He eats his food in silence and watches as Jongdae does the same. Under the table, Jongdae hooks his ankle on Kyungsoo's own. The slide of their ankles, bones brushing against each other's skin, tickles.

ö

The goal is to accomplish a key scene and two small ones that will serve as the 'glue' to the next key scene before lunch time. They're right on track: the set has already been made up by the time they arrive at the location. Kyungsoo still remembers the exposure setting of the cameras from last night's shoot. Baekhyun is running Sehun through his lines and making sure that he enunciates each syllable properly, "No contractions, no skips. Open your goddamned mouth, _Jesus–_ " Joonmyun walks over to help out because he's in the same scene, anyway. Minseok only watches from the sidelines and pitches his comments every so often.

"Emphasis on the second line," Minseok calls out. He moves closer, looking over Joonmyun's shoulder to take a peek at the script. "This part, where you go, 'I feel like I haven't been the brother I was supposed to be to him, like I've let him down,' try to add a pause between the first part of the line and the second. Like you don't want to admit to yourself that you're a let down." He walks behind Sehun, then, and pulls his shoulders back. Pounds the middle with his fist, too, for good measure, as Sehun clears his throat. "Don't be afraid to open your mouth. You'll be able to deliver lines better when you actually _pronounce_ the words."

"And not just croak them out, yeah," Baekhyun says in agreement. He gestures for Sunyoung and Jongdae to come closer, to walk over to where he is. Kyungsoo cranes his neck and meets Baekhyun's gaze in the midst of the flurry of people. Baekhyun addresses him with a wink. To the lead actors, Baekhyun says, "This is the turning point of the movie for your relationship. I don't like putting pressure on people but if there's one scene you have to perfect, it's this one. You can half-ass everything else."

"He's kidding, of course," Kyungsoo says, slapping Baekhyun on the ass. Baekhyun grins, but only until Kyungsoo hits the back of his head. "But he's right: this is one of the most important parts of the movie. If we have to spend two hours just perfecting it then I don't give a fuck – I'm not calling it a good take until you two nail the exact emotion that the scene is trying to convey."

Sunyoung nods, slow and deliberate. Beside her, Jongdae gulps hard, Adam's apple bobbing in accord. Their shoulders rise – sharp, coordinated, like they already have each other's bodies memorized. Jongdae leans a little in his side and reaches over to ruffle her hair, but then Sunyoung has already wheeled herself to her side to narrowly miss Jongdae's attack. She sneers at him, sticks her tongue out at him and gives his arm a light poke. It looks a lot like one of the scenes in the film where Jongdae's character tries to get Sunyoung's character's attention but then Sunyoung's too deep in what she's doing to even give him a passing glance. So Jongdae nudged her in her side with his elbow then pretended to not know a thing when Sunyoung looked around, searching for the culprit.

It almost looks like a scene that _can_ happen in real life – two actors who have slipped out of their personas and slipped into their respective skins again. This is Jongdae and Sunyoun, not Junho and Minyoung. They're not acting; this is real life.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Maybe they can get the scene in one take. Maybe they could. They _have to._

Sunyoung drops her script to the closest table and cracks her knuckles. She casts a glance at Jongdae, then at Kyungsoo before nodding. "Let's do this!"

The scene starts with Sunyoung entering Jongdae's room. It's smack in the middle of the afternoon, which mean it's Jongdae's 'play time,' one of those few times when he doesn't have to worry about his therapies and being asked all these questions that ultimately won't serve any purpose but just give doctors data on _whatever._ Jongdae plays with the hem of his shirt in lieu of playing with a Lego set, as dictated by the script, and Sunyoung cranes her neck a little to check what Jongdae's doing. Baekhyun lets out a soft grunt and Sunyoung takes it as her cue to 'enter', to step inside Jongdae's tiny world that he's recently been so apprehensive with letting people explore. In the previous scene, he only let Sehun and Sunyoung inside – Sehun, because he's his brother, and Sunyoung because she never prods when Jongdae decides to reply to her questions with silence. He shunned Minseok away even before Minseok could come within twelve inches of him. He gave Joonmyun a pointed stare when Joonmyun tried to weasel his way inside the room.

"Can I come in?" Sunyoung asks, nonetheless, voice soft and tentative. Jongdae looks up, then twists his fist in his shirt. A corner of Kyungsoo's mouth tugs up – that one isn't even scripted. It's so natural a response that it almost looks as if Jongdae and Sunyoung aren't acting, like they're just portraying an extension of life.

Kyungsoo gulps hard. He balls his hands into fists. He leans closer, studying every shift of their muscles and the slightest quirk of their mouths. This can go two ways: one gets carried away and the other gets swept into the mess, or they carry out the scene in peace. No NGs. A perfect take on the first try. Their best practice session yet.

Kyungsoo cracks his neck a little. They've just started practicing. It's too early to tell. So he bites the inside of his cheek to keep himself from muttering a comment, to keep himself _in check._

Jongdae hasn't let go of his shirt yet, but his knuckles aren't as white anymore. He hums. It's enough to urge Sunyoung to go on, to step inside his private space and wheel herself over to where he is. "I got you a snack," she says, then transfers an imaginary tray from her hands to his lap. Right now, it's the script she's abandoned earlier. The corners are littered with dog ears. The edges are filled with doodles in different colors of ink. "Thought you'd be hungry after... After that session with Kim-sonsaengnim."

Jongdae snorts. He shifts a little in his seat, then turns to face Sunyoung. He looks up at her, then, through his bangs that have fallen over his eyes. Kyungsoo wants to reach over, to brush Jongdae's hair away so Jongdae can see clearer and look in the right direction–

– And that's not uncertainty, Kyungsoo decides. The listless eyes, the way Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and chews on it without a care in the world or without even thinking that he'd regret it later – that isn't _Junho's_ uncertainty. Junho uses the lip twitch, the subtle quirk of his mouth and the light scrunch of his nose. He uses his hands, his _arms_. His eyes are mostly void of emotions and all his feelings are expressed through the shift of his facial muscles. And this character, the one Jongdae is portraying at the moment, this isn't the Kim Junho who's been bullied and has been driven out of his mind after his parents suffered a most painful death and led to live a life here in the facility. This isn't Junho.

This is Jongdae, Kim Jongdae, the same man who'd helped push back his glasses last night, the same guy who'd driven him home to make sure that he got to his place safely. This _is_ Kim Jongdae, that kid back in Donghae-si who'd spread out his arms and shield the weirdo kid from the being assaulted by bullies, the same kid who'd bite his bottom lip to keep it from trembling because there's only one of him and four of those other kids. The same kid who'd wrap his arms around Kyungsoo's hunched figure because, 'They're too strong, little kid. I'm sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't protect you when I swore I would–'

"I'm okay," Jongdae mutters. It takes a while before he stops fiddling with the hem of his shirt. There's a shadow of Junho in there, somewhere. Then he pats the empty seat beside him, coaxing Sunyoung to move closer. "We can... split."

Sunyoung's eyes widen. Kyungsoo looks to his side and meets Baekhyun's gaze – or at least that's the intent, but then Baekhyun's eyes are still on the two. And he's smiling. He's grinning from ear to ear like he's watching the script he'd written come to life _exactly_ how he wants it to. But there's something missing, Kyungsoo muses as he turns his attention back to the two. There's still something in Sunyoung that's missing even when she takes a sharp breath and leaves her lips hanging parted as she watches Jongdae reach for her hand.

" _Closer,_ " Jongdae says through gritted teeth. It isn't in the script, but it works somehow. Sunyoung moves forward, shortening the distance between them. Their knees almost bump. Jongdae shivers a little, his head doing a funny twitch before he fixes Sunyoung with a gaze. "There. Better."

"Better?" Sunyoung asks, blinking.

The tight corners of Jongdae's mouth ease into a smile. "Better," Kyungsoo finds himself whispering as Jongdae delivers his line, as Jongdae says the same thing. Jongdae covers Sunyoung's small hand, the one that's no longer keeping the 'tray' on Jongdae's lap balanced, and gives it a light squeeze. "Much better."

Sunyoung opens her mouth, closes it, then opens it again. Her lips are dry and chapped and she's gritting her teeth. And her chest is heaving. It isn't cold where they are, not in this part of the set, and neither is it too warm, but sweat is trickling down the curve of her face. And Jongdae's eyes are drawn to that lone bead of sweat trailing her cheeks, leaving a faint mark of a line brighter than the rest of Sunyoung's face. Her make-up isn't supposed to be uneven.

Sunyoung rests her gaze on Jongdae's lips. She lifts her hand a little, then slots her fingers between Jongdae's own. Something flickers in Jongdae's eyes – shock, surprise, a flash of vulnerability? – but it's gone as soon as he looks down at the link of their hands. Sunyoung's fingers look so slender, so short when pressed against Jongdae's own. If Jongdae curled his fingers around Sunyoung's hand then he could keep her skin warm, keep her protected. Keep her from taking pebbles to the back of her hand because, 'You're weird, weird, _weird!_ Who'd even want to play with you, huh? Hey, kid, speak up! Are you mute or something? Too afraid, scared out of your wits?'

Kyungsoo shakes his head. He keeps his eyes wide open long enough to catch a misplaced emotion in Sunyoung's eyes. The furrow of her eyebrows says, 'Well, hello there, Kim Jongdae.' The twist of her mouth asks, 'Why are you doing this? This– This isn't part of the script–'

"Cut," Kyungsoo mutters. From a corner of his eye, he sees Baekhyun shift his gaze and cock an eyebrow at him. "Cut," he repeats, much louder now. Jongdae's fingers jerk a little. Sunyoung looks up, then looks over her shoulder. "Cut! There's– You have to–" Kyungsoo stands from his seat to walk over to where Jongdae and Sunyoung are. He grips them both by the wrists and shakes them to loosen the link of their fingers. Jongdae drops his hand to his thigh first; the knot in Kyungsoo's chest loosens second.

"What... What's wrong?" Sunyoung asks. She glances at her lifted palm, then looks to her side. "Boss? Did we mess up the scene? I mean, this is just practice and we can still fix it this early–"

Don't look at him that way, he wants to tell Sunyoung. Don't look at him like he's the only one who matters because that's not in the script. Don't look at him like you've finally realized -– really realized, like taken a nasty bump to your head or a violent jerk of the shoulders – that within this guy's soul is someone who understands you. That this person who people are saying is weird and crazy and doesn't understand how emotions work is the same person who can tell, just by looking at you, that you're down. That for once, you need someone to help you up instead of being the one doing it for people.

Jongdae is good at mirroring expressions, making them feel special. He's good at bouncing emotions back at people. So Kyungsoo wants to tell Sunyoung to not fall for Jongdae's charms because it's not right. This is _not_ part of the script.

"I need you to show a bit of confusion in your actions. In your _eyes._ A bt of–" Jongdae twists his hand a little. The pads of his fingers are cool against Kyungsoo's warm skin. A traitorous cold slithers down his spine then back up, gripping him by his nape and grabbing a fistful of his hair. He shivers. Jongdae's palm is warm and his pulse is strong against Kyungsoo's skin. He bites the inside of his cheek in an effort to steady his voice. "–apprehension. You're conflicted because this is the first time Jongdae–"

"Junho," Jongdae corrects. He clears his throat. "That was Junho, not me."

"I wish I could agree but what I saw back there wasn't your character. The facial expressions, the small emotional cues – those weren't Junho. That was _you,_ " Kyungsoo answers. He presses his lips together and meets Jongdae's gaze, heavy and focused. Jongdae isn't even blinking, just staring at him like he wants to say something but can't find the words just yet. Or maybe he's looking for the right window of opportunity, the perfect time to strike and the perfect _timing_ to strike the hardest. "Again, you _have_ to put some distance between your character and yourself. If you want to _relay_ a message–"

"–then there should be a clear delineation between the character and actor," Sunyoung continues. She breathes out, chest heaving. "Because if you get too emotional, you'll end up a sobbing mess on set."

"Right. And that's not what we're here for. We're here to communicate an idea, a thought. _A message._ " Kyungsoo shifts his gaze between the two, then cranes his neck in search of the rest of the cast. Joonmyun and Minseok are not too far away. Sehun's pushing himself off the wall and nodding at him as if saying, 'I'm listening, boss, go on.' "So you'll need to balance your emotions. And remember, do _not_ use personal experience as the seed of emotion. Use other people's experiences, that's fine, but if you use your own then you'll fall prey to getting too emotional during takes."

Jongdae tilts his head to the side. "How emotional is 'too emotional'?"

Kyungsoo pins him with a gaze. His glasses slide down the bridge of his nose, blurring Jongdae's features a little. Then too many images flash right before his eyes – that night back in Jongdae's car, just the two of them with nothing but songs from the radio and their heavy breathing to break the white noise. Jongdae reaching up to cup one of Kyungsoo's cheeks and helping him push his glasses up his nose again. Jongdae pulling away with an easy smile, yet his gaze not waning from where it's fixed on the giving bow of Kyungsoo's mouth. Jongdae inching closer just a bit and pinching the tip of Kyungsoo's nose. Kyungsoo flinching a little. Shivering. Shaking.

Not in the script: Jongdae rubbing slow circles on Kyungsoo's thigh the whole time. Even hours after, when he'd gotten up this morning, he could still feel the burn of Jongdae's touch. And this – Jongdae leaving marks on him with the patterns he's tracing on Kyungsoo's skin – he'll feel the dull ache of it until he has to leave the set after packing up. He'll feel it in the morning and maybe even until after breakfast. And if Jongdae ever pulls out his phone again at an obscene hour and says, 'Hey, I'm staying in Apgeu today. Wanna have breakfast together before going to the set?' the sting of Jongdae's touch will stay with him until the next time Jongdae touches him. And Jongdae loves touching, leaving traces of himself on people.

"When you can't control the cracking of your voice or the trembling of your fingers," Kyungsoo begins. He takes a step back, but inches closer to Sunyoung. "When you forget your lines so badly that your ad libs sound nothing like what you're supposed to say. When you forget that you're _acting_ and not living a real life, and when your touches stop being calculated – that's 'too emotional'. That's losing control. That is not responsible acting."

Jongdae breathes in through his nose. He makes a weird, heaving sound as he exhales, but he swallows the rest of the sound when he yawns. He clasps a hand over his mouth. His eyes disappear into slits and the corners of his mouth tug up. Later, he'll be smiling as if nothing happened, as if he hadn't screwed up. He'll be grinning at Kyungsoo and saying, 'Chill, this is just practice. We can do a couple more runs until we get it right.' And he'll be turning to Sunyoung with his bright eyes and even brighter smile and extending his hand in Sunyoung's direction, as if in invitation.

Jongdae hums and nods in acknowledgement. Tightens his grip on Kyungsoo's wrist, too, before pulling away all the way. "Got it. I'll do better next time," he promises, then lets their linked hands fall to his side. He turns to face Sunyoung and asks, "One more? You good with another round?"

Sunyoung looks up. She nods in agreement and flashes Kyungsoo a big smile. "We're ready whenever you are, boss."

Kyungsoo clears his throat. He runs his thumb along his wrist. Jongdae's touch still burns. "Control," he says through gritted teeth, and cocks his eyebrow at Jongdae. "Don't draw emotions from your own experiences. Anything–"

"–in excess is bad, yes," Baekhyun finishes. He rests a hand on Kyungsoo's shoulder. It's warmer than it should be, but maybe that's because the rest of Kyungsoo's body feels cold. It isn't even raining outside, and the red heads here on set are turned on. "Remember: don't lose control. I love the ad libs but sometimes it takes longer to get to the main point when you spew lines at random. Try to find a nice balance between spontaneous and scripted."

Kyungsoo looks to his side. Baekhyun only casts him a glance, but a corner of his lips tugs up. "Can we ask for a demo, then?" comes Jongdae's voice, faint at first then slowly gaining cadence. "So that Sunyoung and I will have a guide as to how the scene should look. Maybe you and boss, Baek?"

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm a shitty actor. I'd rather not watch hear myself delivering lines. The last time that happened–"

–was in university. Kyungsoo can still remember that day. They were in their scriptwriting class and their professor instructed them to read the script out loud as part of the critiquing session. 'If it sounds weird when you say it then it probably shouldn't be there,' their professor said, then made Baekhyun repeat the lines. Only when Baekhyun solicited Kyungsoo's help to 'act opposite him' was he able to communicate the emotions clearly. Only then, and Kyungsoo will always say that it's a one-time thing, did he discover that he could act. Or at least do voice acting. 'There's something about the way you–' Their professor trailed off, grinning as he looked at them. Then he turned back to the class and said, 'That's the benchmark. Outclass them and you get plus five points in tomorrow's exam.'

"Boss and Jongdae-oppa, then," Sunyoung suggests. Kyungsoo shifts his gaze to her and tilts his head a little. "I have an idea of how to nail the scene but I want to see how you do it. Just– If we can do the scene in one take later, then that's great. And I want to make that happen."

Jongdae looks up and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, traps the air right there in his chest until a corner of Jongdae's mouth curls up. "If that's okay with you, at least," Jongdae says. His voice has dropped to a whisper. It's almost as if he's humming. _Breathing._ "But it would be great if you showed us how to do it. I'll be able to learn a lot from the demo, too."

This is a trap, Kyungsoo tells himself. He's caught in a sticky web of responsibility and emotions and it's hard to get out. How can he when he can still feel the sting of Jongade's touch on his skin? How can he free himself from the web of Jongdae's charm when he can still feel the way Jongdae had curled his fingers around his wrist, or the way Jongdae reached for the tips of his fingers so he could slip his hand in Kyungsoo's own over breakfast? How can he when Jongdae's looking at him right now, really looking at him with lips slightly parted and a smile tugging the corners up _just so_ , like he's saying, 'Are you seriously considering saying no? You know you can't. Come on, boss. _Come on, Kyungsoo–_ ' 

"I don't mind," Kyungsoo mutters. He tilts his head to the side just a little. To Jongdae, he says, "Take your place over there. We're doing the entire scene until the part when Sunyoung has to pull away." He gulps hard. "Watch closely."

Kyungsoo clears his throat and locks his arms in front of him. "Ready?" he asks, cocking an eyebrow at Jongdae. Jongdae nods in response and assumes his starting place a few feet away. "Okay. Action!"

It's been years since he's last _shown_ an actor how to handle a scene. He's used to giving instructions, telling people how it has to be done, but using his whole body to communicate the script isn't something he does on the regular. His script supervisor back when he was still doing action was an ex-stuntman, so he didn't have to run his actors through stunts and 'reaction routines'. In fact, he hadn't been _forced_ to act since university, for film class. And even then, he'd only been a minor character. One of those extras who'd react to the main action scene happening on the streets. He's always worked behind the camera, behind the lens. He doesn't mind doing most of the production grunt work; he can't bear the heat of six studio lights shining down on him, anyway. Illuminating his imperfections and putting all of them on display. He doesn't like the scrutiny. So it isn't weird that he can feel his throat drying up or his chest constricting as he takes one step forward to where Jongdae is, knowing that there are people watching him. He can see Sunyoung leaning closer, eyebrows knit, from a corner of his eye. He can see Baekhyun's gaze, careful and assessing, as he inches even closer. And he can feel the string connecting him to Jongdae shaking everytime Jongdae drums his fingers on his thigh.

He knocks on the imaginary door thrice – because that's one of Minyoung's signals to Junho that it's her and not one of the doctors. It gives Junho time to ease himself into the concept of sharing the same space with a person, the only person who understands what he's going through at the moment. "Can I come in?" he asks after a while. Jongdae looks up, turns his head a little, then nods. He walks over to where Jongdae is, steps slow and calculated. Sunyoung has made 'her Minyoung' a slow-walker, unlike most nurses who are always in a rush to get from one place to another. He has to capture that even if this is just a demo.

"Thought you could use something to eat," he begins. He tilts his head to the side and searches for Jongdae's eyes. His features are pulled down and he looks _tired._ It's perfect. He's supposed to have come from an early session with Minseok and Kyungsoo – no, Minyoung – is disturbing his quiet time. He's supposed to look like he wants to make Kyungsoo leave. "After that session with Kim-sonsaengnim."

Jongdae snorts, laughs a little. It's carried away by the wind, the thick blanket of white noise just as soon as it leaves his lips. "Thanks," he mumbles, then turns around. There's a small tremble in his fingers, in the way he pats the space beside him and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. This isn't that part of the script yet. Jongdae's missing his 'I'm okay' line, but Kyungsoo plays along anyway. "Closer," Jongdae adds, voice barely above a whisper. Kyungsoo can hear the tremor in it, the shake, the way he chokes on the second syllable. It's a force reeling him in, trapping him on either side of him leaving him no choice but to move forward. "Come closer– There."

Kyungsoo bends his knees and occupies the empty seat beside Jongdae. He lays the imaginary tray down on his lap, then looks up at Jongdae. From where he is, Jongdae seems so much taller, _bigger._ Larger than his character and life. There's no sunlight setting him aglow and neither is there wind to tousle his hair in the slightest, gentlest way, but he has a presence so big contained in such a small frame that Kyungsoo wonders for a moment how he contains everything inside.

His breath hitches. He can taste acid on the roof of his mouth. Focus, he tells himself, and swallows hard. "You should eat," he says to Jongdae, then motions to unwrap something. Chips and processed food aren't allowed in Junho's diet, not at this stage. He puts the 'food' down, then, and reaches for a glass of water. "Or drink first. You haven't had anything since nine in the morning."

Jongdae's features shift a little. He cocks his eyebrows, eyes widening in something akin to surprise. A corner of his lips tugs up. "I'm okay. I'm not hungry. Not… very hungry, I mean." He reaches for the invisible tray and sets it down on his lap. "We... We can split," Jongdae says, syllables spaced out. He parts his lips, licks them, then purses them together. Kyungsoo leans back a little and looks the other way. If Baekhyun ever calls him out on being overly dramatic then he can say that this is Minyoung displaying confusion in her actions. Minyoung never second guesses her movement. Maybe her words, but never a laugh or a smile or a touch. And he _has_ to be Minyoung right now.

"I said, come closer–" Jongdae reaches out, but doesn't stretch his arm all the way. When he drops his hand to the side, the tips of their fingers brush. That's when Jongdae leans in and slips his fingers between Kyungsoo's own. That's when Jongdae presses their palms together and pulls Kyungsoo closer. The friction of his skin against the material of the chair burns a little. He should've known better than to wear shorts to a shoot. He should've known better than to agree to demonstrate how a scene should be acted out.

But it's his job do make his actors' lives easier. It's his job to bring out the best in his cast and his crew, and to hell if he'll get marks on the underside of his thighs from being pulled from the middle of bench to one corner. If it gets the job done, then he'll do whatever it takes. Now, this is the price he has to pay – Jongdae's palm sweaty and sticky against his own, Jongdae's pulse loud and heavy against his skin. Jongdae's gaze focused, _determined_ as he traces the dip of the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose. Jongdae's lips parting in a dull 'pop' as Kyungsoo sucks in his bottom lip and asks, "Better?"

Jongdae's chest is heaving. Kyungsoo can feel his own pulse at the back of his ears, the base of his throat. "Much better," comes Jongdae's breathless reply. He catches his bottom lip between his teeth. His upper lip is still quivering.

Kyungsoo feels around for the food and ends up with his free hand settling on Jongdae's thigh. He holds Jongdae's gaze a little longer and sees himself reflected in Jongdae's eyes – his expression looks twisted, a bad mix of confusion and frustration and something he can't quite place yet. His eyebrows are furrowed a little and he keeps parting his lips then pressing them together again. It's as if he's forgotten his line, the line Baekhyun had written, the dialogue they'd worked on. _Minyoung's_ line where the more logical voice at the back of her head snaps her back to reality and this moment and makes her say, "You want me to break the bread for you?"

Jongdae jerks back. His eyes are wide open. He tilts his head to the side as he takes a deep breath. Kyungsoo looks down at the link of their hands, at the way Jongdae's hand swallows his own, marvels at the way the warm press of Jongdae's palm to the back of his hand sets his heart at ease somehow. His pulse slows down a little, but Jongdae's is still beating hard and fast. Like a broken record that's saying, 'Oh, there you are. There _you_ are.'

Jongdae's fingers relax against Kyungsoo's own. Kyungsoo leans in, searching for Jongdae's eyes, and nods when Jongdae lets slip a soft 'oh' in recognition. "I'll get to it," Kyungsoo says, then, to fulfill what's in the script. After this, Jongdae will drop pieces of information about his morning, tell Sunyoung about how the session with Minseok went. And Sunyoung will feel it in every fiber in her body – this man understands her like nobody else. This man who was once so repulsive of the thought of communicating with people after being shuffled to this institution s reaching out to her and teaching her a lesson: that despite whatever life throws at you, you can always get back up. Your friends and family will be your crutches. You just have to make that conscious decision to get up and move on. Pan to the sky, fade to black. Dramatic upsound. The end.

But before that, this is what the script dictates them to do. Jongdae follows it to the very last detail:

Jongdae rubs his thumb on the back of Kyungsoo's hand before snatching the piece of bread from him; Jongdae breaks it into several smaller pieces of varying sizes. "Open up," he tells Kyungsoo then runs his thumb along the swell of Kyungsoo's bottom lip. He rests it on one corner and pulls up at it, like he means to make Kyungsoo smile. Maybe Kyungsoo should. Jongdae pulls away with a soft smile, but leans back in to catch the crumbs falling off of Kyungsoo's lips. He sucks in his thumb after that, licking at it, and says, "That was nice."

"Was it?" Jongdae asks later, after practice. Baekhyun has already excused himself to check the lighting set up, while Sunyoung has gone off with Sehun to help him with his lines. It's just him and Kyungsoo here, not quite separated from the rest of the group not close enough to the set. The light doesn't reach them, doesn't light up Jongdae's features. It doesn't make him look as if he's glowing. It does accentuate the light curl of his lips, though, the shy twist of his mouth life he wants say more.

Kyungsoo licks his lips and makes sure not to miss the corners. His stomach lurches at the same time that Jongdae wiggles his eyebrows at him. "It was good. Keep it up," he says in reply, then turns on his heel to head to the set. When he holds the camera in his hands and looks through the viewfinder to check the focus, he feels his hands shaking. And he sees Jongdae's smile – bright, blinding, _disarming_ – through the lens, sees Jongdae looking straight at the camera–

–at him.

ö

"Okay. Talk." Chanyeol arranges the side dishes on the table, sorting them by color, then pours Kyungsoo a shot of soju. "You remembered to use your phone to call me at a normal human hour. Spill. _Now._ "

Kyungsoo mumbles a soft 'thanks' as he takes the shot glass from Chanyeol. They finished taping earlier than expected, nailing most key scenes in one take. They spent the last two hours shooting fillers and reaction shots, while Baekhyun crossed off scenes in their shot list. They're down to the last ten scenes of the movie, the last two 'key events' in the film. It won't be too long until they reach the ending. Jongdae and Sunyoung have already established attraction for each other in that scene where Jongdae just lets Sunyoung walk inside the room because he has the sound of Sunyoung's footsteps memorized like the back of his hand. Sehun hasn't stopped thanking Sunyoung for taking care of his brother just yet, but has slowly developed a distaste for Minseok. They're doing the confrontation scene between Minseok and Sehun tomorrow. By now, it has become difficult to separate the character from the actor and vice versa, but Kyungsoo tries his best to use the characters' names when needed. It's not Minseok who's an asshole and won't take time to understand Jongdae's condition. It's Jaesuk. It's not Joonmyun who's trying to convince Minseok to listen to Jongdae. It's Dongryul. It's not Jongdae who reached up to cup Sunyoung's face _then_ tuck her hair behind her ears, "So I can see you better." It's Junho. And it's Minyoung who's making Junho's heart beat fast. It's Minyoung.

This is a film. They're just sticking to the goddamned script. This isn't real life.

"Do I have to get you drunk just to get you to talk?" Chanyeol asks. He reaches over and gives Kyungsoo's cheek a light pinch. Kyungsoo snarls in response. "Oh, there you go. You're actually alive. You can _talk._ "

"It's him," Kyungsoo mutters. He laughs a little. From a corner of his eye, he sees the meat on the grill sizzling so he reaches for the tongs and turns the meat over. Chanyeol somehow interprets that as a window of opportunity to feed him with a slice of yellow radish. He winces a little at the sour flavor, but soon the sweet aftertaste takes over his taste buds. Makes him shiver a little, then eases him back into a more comfortable state. "He came from Donghae-si and his life story matches that of the guy's. And he looks like him. Sort of." He rubs the tip of his nose. "I don't know if he recognizes me but–"

"But who the hell cares? You've found your hero." Chanyeol clashes his chopsticks with the tongs Kyungsoo is holding. Kyungsoo pulls away, then, and hands the tongs to Chanyeol. He's more patient with cooking meat, after all. "Granted, you haven't really been 'looking' for him but when I found you back in high school– Man, you kept talking about that guy, kept wanting to go back to Donghae-si just to find him and ask for his name." He turns the slices of meat over, then tosses some garlic cloves into the grill. The oil crackles and sizzles. It makes Kyungsoo's breath hitch. "And now you have exactly that."

"I'm still not a hundred percent sure."

"Yeah, because you're 200% sure." Chanyeol takes a few pieces of meat and drops them into Kyungsoo's bowl. "Wish I could help but I don't know this mysterious hero of yours. I just know he's messing up with your mind. Fucking up your system. How _dare_ he, geez." He pauses for a while to add some kimchi to the grill, then looks up. He grins at Kyungsoo. "I like it."

Kyungsoo groans and rolls his eyes. "Asshole."

"Thanks, babe," Chanyeol says. Kyungsoo takes three slices from the meat bundle Chanyeol has given him and transfers them to Chanyeol's bowl. "I love you, too."

Kyungsoo looks up and finds Chanyeol adding a fresh batch of meat. There's a bit of red sauce on the pocket of his white polo. "Same, asshole," he whispers right back before gesturing at Chanyeol's top. "And make a bib out of the big table napkins. You don't want to get stuff on your shirt."

"Oh, right. I'm–" Chanyeol hands Kyungsoo the tongs and begins to work on his bib. "I should've changed into something else. Or maybe I shouldn't have answered your call and just went home straight because I just came from following up on one of my artists."

Kyungsoo adds in the remaining garlic in the plate. He catches the small smile that surfaces on Chanyeol's lips. He laughs a little. "Your favorite?"

"If you meant the one who gives me the most headache, then yes. He's the best the company has seen in years, though," Chanyeol replies. He looks up, meeting Kyungsoo's gaze for a moment, then tilts his head. "Wanna cook?"

He means, if cooking will make you feel a bit better then _please_ order more meat. Kyungsoo nods. "Yeah. I need to cook."

"Cool. I'll order more meat. Pork, right? Or–" Chanyeol kicks him in his calves under the table. "Beef?"

Kyungsoo sets the tongs down on his plate. The last time Chanyeol asked him what he felt like cooking was when Baekhyun disappeared without a trace. In fact, that was the last time Chanyeol let him cook at all because Kyungsoo has a habit of either overcooking or undercooking meat. "You're all extremes: hot and cold, happy and sad. Man, it's just– You have no in-betweens," Baekhyun had said then. He had this half-scowl, half-smile thing going on with his mouth. It was weird and twisted. This was the compromise, Kyungsoo mused. If he couldn't find a nice in-between then Baekhyun was willing to be exactly that, but only for a short period of time. The first few months of their tryst, he called Kyungsoo 'mysterious'. After the first year, Baekhyun called Kyungsoo 'exciting'. Fast forward three years after and he was calling Kyungsoo 'all extremes'. He was beginning to run out of nice things to say. This uncertainty being a constant thing was boring the hell out of Baekhyun. And Baekhyun hated 'boring'.

"Anything you want," Kyungsoo says now, nodding in Chanyeol's direction. It's only fair – Chanyeol let him cook and eat all the beef he wanted that time until he threw up even if Chanyeol's preferred meat was pork. Chanyeol rubbed circles on his back and pulled back his hair. And Chanyeol tucked him in bed and made him swear to not to send Baekhyun _that text_ drafted in his messages – _you're a fnuckning ashole i curse the dya you where born._

"Are you sure? You're good with pork?" Chanyeol asks again. He kicks Kyungsoo under the table again and rubs the tip of his shoe against Kyungsoo's calf this time. It's supposed to be disgusting because Chanyeol's day is 70% running around town and 30% staying in the office to review manhwa proofs, but then this is _Chanyeol._ He's seen Chanyeol fit boxers in front of him, has gone camping with Chanyeol and even 'stood guard' over the place where Chanyeol took a dump in the forest. And Chanyeol has seen him in his lowest points in life and helped him get up. So if there's anyone who's disgusting between the two of them, it's him. It isn't Chanyeol and his silly antics. It's always been him.

"Yeah. Anything you want," Kyungsoo says. He rubs the tip of his nose. He reaches over, then, adding more kimchi to the grill and mixing them with the meat. Chanyeol likes his samgyupsal like that, twisted as it may seem. "You can't let me always have my way. That's not your job."

Chanyeol snorts. "My job is to keep you sane. I just happen to like meat, too."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Under the table, he bumps his ankle into Chanyeol's. Chanyeol laughs a little. "Yeah, very convenient. I mean it, though – if you want pork then let's get pork. I've already–" He checks the meat – one side is already cooked. It has already taken on a nice, golden brown color. He turns over the slices. "I've already bothered you enough as it is. It's the least I could do to, you know–"

"Dude, I keep you sane because I like it," Chanyeol counters. He tosses chopped chili into the mix. Kyungsoo parts his lips to speak, but sinks right back into his seat. Extra spicy pork doesn't seem like such a bad idea, after all. And Chanyeol makes weird food _work_ somehow. Chanyeol won't let him down. "And you're not 'bothering' me. I'm your friend; of course I want to keep you sane! Of course I want to make you happy! I keep telling you: it's not a crime to need people from time to time. To keep you company or something, help you relax or whatever. To _help_ you." Chanyeol blows at his bangs. He squints his eyes when the sharp tips hit his eyes. He brushes them away, then, resurfacing. His gaze is sharp, but as welcoming as ever. It's like getting lost somewhere along the way and finding his way back again. It's like leaving Donghae-si to live in the busier neighborhood of Anyang-si, but still craning his neck to get a glimpse of the place he has come to call 'home'.

Kyungsoo gulps hard. His throat feels dry. His chest feels really tight and heavy. It's not easy depending on people, entrusting them with a piece of yourself and expecting that they'd take care of it. It's not easy opening up and _giving up_ a part of you, a space in your life to make room for others. Or maybe it is for some people, but not for Kyungsoo. He's spent his entire childhood trying to be desirable, to be 'just like them'. Then he met a kindred soul who swore to protect him. But then that hero was taken away from him.

And Kyungsoo has found him again here, in the set of a horror movie too many years after. And maybe Jongdae recognizes him as that kid from years back, the same little guy whose body he's covered with his own in an effort to protect him from bullies. And Chanyeol's reaching out now, reaching for the pads of Kyungsoo's fingers.

Kyungsoo moves closer, then, meeting him halfway. "It sounds like a bother sometimes," Kyungsoo mumbles. Chanyeol scrunches his face in response. "You've got your own shit to deal with and I have mine. You... don't have to carry my crosses. We're all fighting a battle–"

"And it's not a battle that you can win _alone,_ not all the time," Chanyeol says. "It's not a crime to ask for help, especially from people who _care._ You can't solve all the problems of the world alone, Soo. You need people to help you with that. You need people to help you realize a couple of things. And you need someone to tell you right now that you're crazy for even thinking that you're being a bother." He kicks at Kyungsoo's calf under the table. It hurts. It fucking _stings,_ but maybe Kyungsoo needed that kick. And maybe he should ask for another because this has been a long time coming. Chanyeol has been telling him again and again, 'you're great and all but you're not a god, y'know?' If people didn't need other people to exist then there would be just one man on earth. More oxygen to breathe in, less noise to make Kyungsoo's ears ring. It would have been a peaceful world. Peaceful, yes, but dull. Lifeless.

Chanyeol takes a deep breath, then lets out a low exhale. "You know why we have those assistant artists in the studio? Or... why you guys have body doubles and stuntmen?"

Kyungsoo snorts. "To save time and energy?"

"No. Fuck you," Chanyeol grumbles. He tightens his hold on Kyungsoo's hands. "Because we can't always win. There are battles that we won't be able to fight because– I dunno, man, what if the battle's up in the air and you don't have wings?"

"That's–" A very good parallelism, Kyungsoo wants to say. Desperation is crippling. It feels like your hands being forcefully chopped off, or twisting your ankle when you still have four long kilometers to run. It feels like... clawing at the air and trying to fly while watching the feathers of your wings slowly come off. "That's false analogy."

"And you're a smartass." Chanyeol growls at Kyungsoo. "Why are we friends again?"

Kyungsoo shrugs. There's a hint of a smile at the corners of Chanyeol's lips, in the way his cheeks pull up. And this is why they're friends – because they've already accepted each other's quirks, because they've already memorized each other like the back of their hand. Because they've already found a way to work around those tiny faults and get each other out of a nasty slump. Because they are Kyungsoo and Chanyeol, two people who found each other's company at the right place and the right time. And because they made a conscious decision to stick and around and plough through life together, as cheesy as it may sound.

This is Chanyeol rubbing off on him – entrusting a part of himself with Kyungsoo. This is friendship, Kyungsoo muses. The shit you see in movies about the most unlikely of people being the best of friends? That's true. Still, he answers, "Beats me. You've always liked befriending people smaller than you, I guess." He meets Chanyeol's gaze and smiles a little. "It makes you feel more powerful."

"Well, I'm a titan. Except..." Chanyeol worries his bottom lip. "Except I don't eat humans. And no, I won't be condemned to Tartarus, either."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Trust Chanyeol to jump from manhwa to mythology and then back to real life. Trust Chanyeol to know his way around and his way back to this moment, right now, where they're sitting opposite each other and tossing the new load of crushed garlic that's just been given to them. And trust Chanyeol to bring Kyungsoo along with him to the finish line without even thinking if Kyungsoo will slow him down and keep him from getting there.

"You're too nice to even think of eating humans," Kyungsoo says after a while.

Chanyeol chuckles, then pulls away. Kyungsoo can still feel the warmth of Chanyeol's touch between his fingers. It's comforting, knowing some things won't change, that some people won't leave. "And tell you what: I think you need to do something," Chanyeol replies. He sniffles. "To answer that question of yours, once and for all."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. "You really think I can ask him straight up, just like that?"

"Well, if you could walk up to Baekhyun and ask why the hell he wanted to get into your pants every chance he got then I don't see why you couldn't ask your hero about that thing."

"Stop saying it like that," Kyungsoo grumbles. "There is no 'thing'."

"Yeah," Chanyeol says, then hums. "Just love." Chanyeol ends with a wink, then erupts into a lovely peal of laughter. His eyes disappear into these tiny crescents. This is it, Kyungsoo muses – this was the same look that Chanyeol fashioned the day Chanyeol found him in the playground in Anyang-si. It was the same look that made him think, hey, this guy's really weird. But I like weird so why the hell not?

Later that night, as he dries his hair with a hand towel, he reaches for his phone from under his pillow. He pulls up Jongdae's contact card, then exits not too longer after. He can feel the cool air from the air conditioning freeze his hair, can feel the pads of his fingers getting cold. And he can feel it again – that weird, lurching sensation at the pit of his stomach, the sizzle of heat the rolls down his abdomen at the same time that a shiver crawls up his spine. He takes a deep breath, then, and navigates out of the Contacts application. Pulls up his messages and settles on a thread he hasn't visited in a while. _so the wasabi latte IS great,_ is the last message in the exchange, so he continues it. Picks up from where they've left off. Weaves it into something that sounds less like a breakfast meeting before the big shoot and more having coffee with a longtime friend. It shouldn't be too hard. If they know each other from a decade or two ago, it shouldn't be too difficult to pick up the pieces of their friendship. It should be a bit easy.

_any chance you'd want to try it again?_ he then types days after the topic has ceased to be relevant. This is the easiest way to reach Jongdae without veering off the track. Right now, it's the only way.

His phone gives off a beep, then another. _you're in luck, i'm in apgeu c:,_ the first message says. The second, _was just thinking of passing by cork tomorrow for breakfast. you in? c:_

He takes a deep breath and types a quick message. _yeah sure. same time?_ he asks, but it sounds more like a statement than anything. Like they have a specific time marker to themselves that they can call 'their' very own coffee time. Their very own little secret. So he waits – for a sign of hope, for a go signal, for his phone to beep twice in succession because Jongdae's always in a rush to send messages and always mistakes the send button on the keypad for the paragraph break button. He waits for midnight to end and morning to come rushing through. For a chance to share morning coffee with Jongdae again and maybe talk about Donghae-si, the sea, the past.

His phone beeps, but only once. He reaches for his phone, then, and unlocks it as fast as his fingers can move. _will be there 8am sharp this time, i promise!!_ the message says. He can almost imagine it – Jongdae's apologetic voice, the tight knot of his eyebrows, the subtle quirk of his lips as he says his apology, whispers a soft 'I'm really sorry, it won't happen again' under his breath.

He waits a few more seconds before motioning to lay his phone down on the table. Then another message comes in. When he checks the screen, it's Jongdae's name that greets him, bright against a green bubble. Then he leans closer, squints, reads the message at least thrice before deciding to shut his eyes and laugh a little and then press his lips together. He sucks in his bottom lip – to keep himself in check? To keep himself from grinning too much? He can't tell. All he knows right now is that he has to turn in, pull the blankets up to his chin. Set an alarm for six in the morning because he has an appointment at eight.

He risks a last glance at the message again and lets a sliver of laughter escape his lips. This tickling sensation in his throat, his stomach, at the back of his knees and elbows will haunt him for days.

_it's a date c;_

ö

He's been to Cork for Turtle at this early hour far too many times for him to get lost. He knows this place like the back of his hand – he can walk from the station to the restaurant with his eyes closed and he won't make a wrong turn. Maybe he'd run into a couple of people, but then this is Seoul. This is _Gangnam,_ and what's Gangnam without its busy streets and people always rushing from one place to another? What is _Seoul_ without people waking up early to get as many things done as possible in the shortest amount of time? Eight in the morning is already late. The grind for the shoot is at twelve. They have to be there at ten in the morning, or eleven at the very latest.

Jongdae takes a while to get into character. Maybe they can start internalizing in the car, on their way to the location. Or maybe that's a bad idea – it isn't exactly nice to entrust someone whose mind is clouded with so many thoughts with a steering wheel. Kyungsoo should know that. He knows that very well. And he knows where exactly to sit in the second floor of the restaurant – at the second table from the window, where there's a nice balance of hot and cold. There's a nice view of the Han from there, as well. It's the best of both worlds.

The server arrives with a pair of menus and hands them to Kyungsoo. "I'm just waiting for a friend," he tells her, then gives her a small smile. He goes through the items, then, eager to try something new.

Sunlight reaches his table after a while, hitting the back of his hand and leaving a prickling sensation on his skin. It's the same as that time, when he saw blinding headlights right before his eyes. When he almost got crushed against the slide by a car that's been steered out of control. He can still remember the way he'd tried to call for help that time, the way his throat felt so dry and tight, the way he felt so helpless. The pads of his fingers were cold. His limbs were numb. And the bright lights were consuming him in the same way that the sun was setting his skin aglow–

"Hey," comes a familiar voice, then a light pinch on his arm. He looks up from where he's been staring at the menu for a few minutes now, and blinks several times. "I'm not late, am I? I mean, I'm pretty sure my watch says 8 a.m. and I've had my time synced with KBS for a while now."

"Hey," Kyungsoo replies, then raises his hand a little. Jongdae meets his palm with his own. The slide of their hands is warm, but this isn't anything unfamiliar. Jongdae's held his hand a couple of times now that he should be accustomed to the way their hands fit, the way Jongdae can envelop his tiny fists with his hands. He's supposed to have this memorized because doesn't he have his _talents_ memorized like the back of his hand? Still, he lets his gaze linger in the way Jongdae's fingers slip between his own, in the way grips his hand tight once he finds a nice fit. In the way the pulse in Jongdae's thumb beats fast against his knuckle and sends shivers down his spine. "He...llo."

"Hi," Jongdae says, then scrunches his nose. He hums. "Whatever. You probably just arrive early all the time. Must be a director thing."

"And arriving late is an actor thing, yeah." Kyungsoo chuckles. Jongdae cocks an eyebrow at him and tightens his grip. He can feel his own pulse in the tight press of their hands. "Couldn't find parking space?"

Jongdae tilts his head a little. Then he squints, the corners of his mouth pulling up in accord. When Jongdae smiles, the rest of his body does. It's there in the crinkles at the corners of his eyes, in the upward pull on his cheeks, in the way his shoulders fall forward and relax. In the easy rise and fall of his chest as he says, "Nah, I didn't bring my car with me. Figured I'd have a hard time looking for parking at this time. I'll just walk back to my flat."

"Apgeu's a good ten-minute walk from here."

"So?" Jongdae shrugs, then pulls away. He clasps his hands together and settles on his seat. "That means I get to spend ten more minutes with you." He looks up and meets Kyungsoo's gaze. His bangs are brushed to the side and sunlight catches on his eyelids. He looks better when he isn't hiding behind his bangs. And he looks better when he has that peculiar, discerning smile on his lips as he leans closer to reach for the menu. "Which means I get to make you talk about yourself because–" He scrunches his nose again. He drops his hand on the table, just a few inches shy of Kyungsoo's own. Kyungsoo wants to reach out, to _touch_ , but– "You know what? I just realized that whenever we go out on a coffee date, you deflect all my questions and I end up answering all of them. That's not nice. Why?"

Kyungsoo hums and cocks an eyebrow at him. "Why _what?_ " he asks. "What if this is just how I am?"

"You're a very interesting person, that's what you are." Jongdae smiles at him, eyes disappearing into slits. "And I'm determined to know more about you than your coffee order and work."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Probably not. I have a... very uninteresting life."

"That's what you think." Jongdae leans closer. The tips of their fingers brush. The contact is so brief, feather-light that Kyungsoo could've just been imagining things, but there's no denying the sting of Jongdae's touch. He knows this. He knows Jongdae. He can't be wrong. "Maybe you just need to let the ghosts find you and scare the shit out of you so you can make room in your life for interesting things. _Not_ that I'm saying that you're not interesting–"

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. "We better order something."

"I dare you to order wasabi latte."

"And I dare you," Kyungsoo begins, then reaches out to slip his fingers between Jongdae's own. He can feel Jongdae's muscles shift, stiffen at the contact. He can feel his stomach turning, lurching. It's a nice lurch, though, the type that sets his skin on fire. The type that urges Kyungsoo to say, "To drink your coffee black. No sugar. Just coffee in all it's black glory."

Jongdae narrows his eyes, but his fingers relax in the fit of their hands. "Is this payback for being such a difficult person to deal with?" he asks, but the twist of his mouth is saying, 'Are you really challenging me? Really now, Do Kyungsoo, are you challenging _me?_ '

"Maybe," Kyungsoo says. He laughs a little. He feels a shiver run down his spine again. They aren't even in the haunted hospital yet. They aren't on set. The film isn't rolling and Jongdae isn't in character yet; the ghosts shouldn't be haunting them at this hour. But the shiver takes over him, makes his breath hitch at the same time that Jongdae brushes his ankle against Kyungsoo's own under the table. So he holds Jongdae's gaze, unwilling to back down. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae, on the glimmer of something indiscernible in his eyes, on the curl of his lips and the allure of his easy smile. He keeps his eyes on Jongdae until memories flash before his eyes – days spent playing in the park, in the sandpit that Kyungsoo can call his only when the other kids aren't around. The day when he showed Jongdae the view of the sea from the beach along Donghae-si. That day when Jongdae ruffled his hair and made him wear a cap because, 'I know it's just a small thing but maybe it can help protect you from the bullies?' The day when he waited for Jongdae in the park, on that slide, until the blinding lights consumed him and rendered him immobile.

"Challenge accepted," Jongdae whispers, a smile surfacing on his lips. And Kyungsoo resurfaces at that – the pull of Jongdae's voice, the ray of light filtering through the waters of the sea. He swims back to the surface and holds onto the first thing he sees – a boat, an outstretched hand, a familiar smile that looks a lot like home.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, shaking the water out of his ears. He grins. "Challenge accepted," he echoes, and pulls Jongdae closer by the hand. Under the table, their ankles brush against each other.

Jongdae doesn't fight the tide. And Kyungsoo lets himself be carried away by the wave of Jongdae's bright laughter.

ö

The wasabi latte is a bad idea, Kyungsoo soon realizes. Halfway through their trip to Gonjiam-eup, he feels his tummy rumbling. It isn't a light tumble or tiny lurch – his stomach is _acting up,_ and he's in Jongdae's car. At least he's not alone, but this really isn't something he'd wish on someone else. Jongdae's breaking out cold sweat and mumbling every few minutes, "My world's spinning 'round and 'round–"

"Fuck. I thought I was going to crash into something," Jongdae says now, pulling over at his designated parking spot. He rests his head on the steering wheel for a while, and Kyungsoo looks to his side to check on him. His fingers are trembling on the wheel and his hair is a mess, but then Jongdae walked into Cork for Turtle with disheveled hair earlier today. His shirt is crumpled from where he's balled his hands into fists earlier. And his chest is heaving, the slow rise and fall of his chest in tandem with his deep breaths.

"I'm never getting into a bet with you again, ever," Jongdae whispers, but he's smiling. His lips fall open to reveal bright teeth and an even brighter smile. Kyungsoo's stomach gives another lurch. "How can you drink something like that on a daily basis? More than once a day?"

"In my defense, I have my Americano only in the morning. The rest of the day, I drink brewed coffee."

Jongdae groans. "It's the same thing. Coffee with water. Flavored beans doused in water and given a fancy name." He brushes his bangs back. Kyungsoo can see him better now, can tilt his head to meet Jongdae's gaze and see if he's really doing fine. He looks a bit pale, but maybe that's because the skies are overcast and there's no warm light to breathe color into Jongdae's cheeks. There's sweat trickling from his forehead down to the sides of his face, leaving a dull line of color on Jongdae's skin. And Jongdae's already wearing make up. Kyungsoo can see it, that thin sheet of foundation that's caking under his eyes, the uneven tone on the bridge of his nose where Jongdae's sunglasses were once rested on. So he reaches forward and flicks off the beads of sweat, then, and evens out Jongdae's make up with his thumb. That way, Soojung won't have to worry that much about evening out his foundation even if Jongdae's wearing a brand that's different from the one they use on set. They'll save time with preparations. They might even be able to cross off more scenes today and finish taping early.

Kyungsoo laughs to himself a little. They're down to the last few scenes, the last few shooting days. It's almost the end of the contract. They're getting closer to _the end._

"What–" Jongdae's breath hitches. Kyungsoo blinks a few times, then jerks away just a little when he sees Jongdae looking straight at him. The skin under his palm feels oddly warm, and when he drops his gaze to his free hand he finds it rested on Jongdae's thigh. The muscles in Jongdae's thighs tense. He withdraws his hand and sits on it, but his other hand is still brushing against Jongdae's cheek. He still has four fingers tilting Jongdae's head to the side and his thumb pressing down where Jongdae's make up was caking earlier. He's still doing his job. "What are you–"

"Fixing your make up," Kyungsoo mumbles. He withdraws his other hand, too, then digs deep in his pocket for tissue. He wipes the residual make up on the sheet, then, and balls the tissue into a small ball. "Soojung will throw a fit if she sees the uneven tone. You know how she is."

Jongdae's eyebrows twitch. His lips press into a thin line. There's none of the small smile, the subtle upward tug on the corners of his mouth. There are questions written on the gentle slope of his neck when he tilts his head to the side, on the twist of his mouth just before he sucks in his bottom lip. Kyungsoo can see them, can spend time reading them all and try to give Jongdae answers. "Yeah, she can get pretty crazy sometimes," Jongdae whispers in response. He drops his gaze to his lap for a while, but looks back up to meet Kyungsoo's gaze. "That's all?"

Kyungsoo gulps hard. "Is there anything else that I have to do?"

"No, I mean–" Jongdae scratches on his nape with a nail, and then two, and then three, like he's counting the steps to the next to his next destination. Well, this is it, Kyungsoo muses – they're parked near Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital and it's close to eleven in the morning. They start filming at twelve. They should be getting out of the car, not hovering, waiting and resisting in equal parts. "Never mind."

"There's–" Kyungsoo reaches for Jongdae's nose and rubs at the tip. There was an uneven spot there earlier. Soojung won't miss that. She won't be happy if she saw it, either. It takes longer to even out the tone because Jongdae had pinched his own nose earlier when he couldn't sneeze but wanted to. It's frustrating, Kyungsoo gets that, when things don't go your way even if you keep trying to make things happen. Or when you keep trying to _not_ let things happen but they just do. This time, his eyes are drawn to Jongdae's thin lips, the curl at the corners of his mouth, at his tongue that he darts out to lick his lips. And he tries to look away. He tries to avert his gaze because he can feel explosions setting off at the tips of his toes, can feel his stomach lurching again and again, out of control.

And he hates losing control. He hates it more than wasabi latte at eight in the morning. He hates it more than latecomers and late lunches and finalized dates being pushed back. Losing control makes him feel helpless, and even if he does seek help on this matter nobody will be able to help him. There's no swimming away from this tidal wave, the deluge that Jongdae has brought along with him. There is no escaping this. He's caught in a sticky web and he's trapped in the sweet allure of Jongdae's smile.

"You're really cute," Jongdae whispers. His nose twitches under the pressure of Kyungsoo's fingers, and it makes Kyungsoo jerk back. "You try not to show that you care but you're secretly a marshmallow beneath that tough exterior. Like... chocolate-coated marshmallow."

Kyungsoo snorts. He drops his hand to Jongdae's shoulder. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on the base of his throat. "Marshmallows are unsatisfying."

"I like marshmallows," Jongdae declares. The corners of his mouth tug up. He grins. "They were my favorite back when I was a kid."

When you were still in Donghae-si? Kyungsoo wants to ask. He doesn't. His throat still feels tight and dry and unwilling. His legs feel like jelly. And he can _feel_ the thundering pulse at the back of his ears, loud and deafening. So instead, he checks his wrist watch and says, "It's not time for marshmallows. It's time for work." They only have a few more scenes to shoot. The madness will be ending soon.

Jongdae presses his lips together and curls a corner of his lips. He reaches out, pinching one of Kyungsoo's cheeks, then turns off the engine. "I'm good at multitasking. I can eat marshmallows anytime, anywhere," he says. He slips his keys in his pocket, then, and unplugs his phone from where he's been using it as a music player during the trip. "Even at work."

"No multitasking. I need you to focus," Kyungsoo replies. He cocks an eyebrow at Jongdae when Jongdae makes a tiny sound of protest at the back of his throat. " _What?_ "

"You can't stop me from wanting to eat marshmallows, _boss._ "

"But I can throw them away and make you say your lines," Kyungsoo retorts. He offers Jongdae a wry smile. "Thank you for the ride, but we have to start walking to the set or we'll be late."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Of course. There's still work to be done," he says, then unlocks his door. He casts Kyungsoo a look before going out, though, pins Kyungsoo in place with a gaze one last time before slipping out of his own car and wearing a different skin. Kyungsoo's stomach lurches, one full turn, and then it's gone, replaced instead by the hitching of his breath when Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip and says, "Let's go?"

'Let's run away' would be a better alternative, but they still have a film to finish. There are scenes to shoot. There's work to be done. So he nods, takes Jongdae's outstretched hand when they reach the base of the hill. It will be a steep climb, but they've been doing this for months – there's no reason for them to slip in their steps as long as they grip the railings tight. If they ever do, it's because they've lost focus. It's because one of them risked a glance at the other and looked away from the path, looked at the other longer than he should. They can't take risks.

The ground beneath them cracks a little, but they press on. Kyungsoo tightens his hold on Jongdae's hand and Jongdae does the same. He can feel Jongdae's nails digging into his skin, but it doesn't hurt. At best, it keeps him alert, too aware – of the slide of their fingers against each other, of the way Jongdae shivers when Kyungsoo pulls him closer in an effort to stay balanced as they make their ascent. Of the way their bodies fit – Jongdae sliding his arm around Kyungsoo's waist at the first press of their sides against each other, and Kyungsoo gripping Jongdae tight by the arm.

He can feel Jongdae's pulse in his waist. It tickles his insides, sets off explosions at the tips of his fingers. It drives away the voices – the ghosts – in his mind.

ö

The last scene for the day takes place close to sunset, when the skies are the warmest. They're at the part where Gonjiam Psychiatric will be burned down following an uprising from the patients in the hospital. It's a movement for change, a move to make the twisted hospital staff and management pay the price of giving all these patients false hopes.

"And they're sending out a message to the 'other people', those who think that the people receiving treatment inside are lucky because there's still hope for them. They're telling them that medicine isn't the cure to everything. Well _fine_ , it is most of the time, but when wrongly prescribed and administered, it can cause someone's ultimate demise," Baekhyun explains as he turns the pages of the script. He drops the hand he's been gesturing with in his side and takes a deep breath.

Kyungsoo gives his head cameraman a pat on the back and whispers, "Make sure camera D goes really tight on Jongdae's face. E is for Sehun. I want to see the wrinkles on their face – yeah, that close." He cranes his neck, looking around the set and checking the cast. Joonmyun and Minseok are no longer in their lab gowns. Sunyoung's hair is down and disheveled, but she's still chatting up the two doctors and discussing how to improve her delivery for the part where she fights with the two of them. Sehun's running through his lines in a corner, checking his facial expressions in the mirror. Jongdae, meanwhile, is nowhere to be found. He's supposed to be back from his bathroom break by now.

He gulps down hard. Maybe Jongdae's outside, taking a call or something. He whistles at Baekhyun and mouths, "Look for Jongdae."

Baekhyun cocks an eyebrow at him. Over his shoulder, he calls out to Sehun, "F.Y.I., you're supposed to look helpless and hopeless, not constipated!" Sehun grunts in response and sticks up his middle finger. "Thanks, but I'd rather we finish this scene first!" To the other members of the cast, he asks, "Has anyone seen Jongdae?"

Sunyoung shakes her head. Minseok shrugs, but the furrow of his eyebrows says more than it should. Joonmyun takes a deep breath and takes a step forward. "Saw him exit the set through the back door. Oh wait, I saw him climb the stairs to the rooftop. The abandoned basketball court, I think?"

Kyungsoo blinks a few times. Baekhyun looks to his side and cocks an eyebrow at him. He approaches Baekhyun, then, and leans in to whisper, "Has he ever done this in previous shoots?"

"Never," Baekhyun replies. He worries his bottom lip. "He's... always been sorta mysterious, though. I dunno. Even if we've been working with each other for years, I've never felt as if I know him completely. He can be a bit... withdrawn? Depending on his mood?" Baekhyun rubs the underside of his nose. "Never gives too much information about himself, that guy. It's almost like being friends with a stranger."

Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows. "He's never talked about his past before? Not even a passing mention?"

"Well, I _do_ know that he's a year our senior in K-ARTS but he had to stop and move to a university in the U.S.. Something about his father constantly being reassigned to different places–"

–and that's the only thing that's constant, Kyungsoo continues in his mind. He remembers Jongdae, as a kid, mentioning that. "Appa... His job involves a lot of traveling? And he brings us with him?" Jongdae had said then. He scrunched his nose and jut out his bottom lip then pursed his lips. Old habits die hard. "It gets very tiring, having to... be prepared to drop things when he asks us to." And as if on cue, Jongdae's father had called him from the car passing the park. It took no more than ten seconds for Jongdae to scramble to his feet, no more than five seconds for Jongdae to look up at him and mumble an apology. The next thing Kyungsoo knew, Jongdae was disappearing behind the big door of the big car, being swallowed by family bonds and responsibility and the desire to make his father proud.

He gulps down hard. That still doesn't explain the disappearance. He looks over his shoulder, then, and asks Joonmyun, "You said you saw him going to the court, hyung?"

Joonmyun nods. "Through the stairway at the back. That's the one that leads to the open court at the rooftop, right?"

"Yes, that's the one," Kyungsoo replies. He looks back at Baekhyun and gives his arm a light squeeze. "Run them through their lines and do a test take with your phone. I want to see the take when I get back. I'll go look for Jongdae."

"Are you sure–" Baekhyun scratches his nape. "I mean, it's... not your job to go looking for missing people, Soo. And you don't know Jongdae. Heck, I don't think anyone here does."

But he's not just _anyone_. He's one of Jongdae's friends from the past; Jongdae just doesn't know it yet. Or hasn't realized it yet, at least, because Baekhyun's right – Jongdae doesn't drop information about his past. He only ever talks about his most recent projects, his love for stuffed toys and sweet coffee. And living in Donghae-si once, but that's it – Jongdae has never mentioned anything about his family ever since Kyungsoo found him again here in little Gonjiam-eup.

He looks at Baekhyun through the slits of his bangs. "Maybe I know him. From somewhere." He worries his bottom lip. "Go back to work. I'll be back before you know it, don't worry."

Baekhyun snorts. "I'm not worried."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. Half of him is thankful that he has his back turned on Baekhyun; the other half wants to look back, over his shoulder. He wants to see the look on Baekhyun's face and see if this really isn't worry or concern, if it's just one of those Baekhyun things that Kyungsoo once mistook for 'feelings'. He doesn't. Instead, he keeps his eyes on the road ahead and says, "Yeah. Of course, you aren't."

"There... There are no ghosts here," Baekhyun says, voice dropping to a whisper. "In case you're wondering. I'm serious about what I said before: I had the place checked and blessed. I have papers to support the claim."

Kyungsoo tucks his chin and laughs a little. There may not be any ghosts around here, but there certainly are ghosts that keep haunting them in their sleep, ghosts that have their fingers wrapped around their necks, keeping them from breathing easily. So Kyungsoo just says, "Glad to know," and makes his way up the staircase. He has to look for his leading man. They have unfinished business to deal with.

The trip to the court at the rooftop isn't easy. The stairs are steep, and the steps are narrow. The railings are rusty and offer little to no sense of security. He grips the one on his right with his hand, then secures his left hand on his left knee. His hold tightens with every passing second, with every flight he climbs. The reward is in seeing Jongdae sitting on the ground, though, when he reaches the rooftop. The warm sunlight makes his hair look like it's on fire, like _he_ is aflame. It breathes a bit of color into him, sets him aglow.

Kyungsoo taps his foot thrice. He leans forward, but doesn't walk closer. He doesn't, until Jongdae looks over his shoulder and tilts his head up.

"May I?" he asks. Jongdae doesn't move, doesn't budge, so he repeats, "May I... join you?"

Jongdae drops his gaze to the ground. A heartbeat, then, "Yeah, sure."

Kyungsoo takes slow, quiet steps forward. He looks around, twisting his torso to get a glimpse of what's behind him. There's a basketball hoop just above the door. There's a tattered banner close by. And there are no ledges here, just steel wires serving as the bounds of the rooftop. It's the perfect scene for the end of a chase scene. If this was an action movie, this very moment, then this is where the final battle will happen – the protagonist battling the antagonist with his bare fists and nothing else. He's at a complete disadvantage but he'll win, anyway, because don't all protagonists win in the end, one way or another? Don't protagonists always emerge as the victor even if they've already been beaten to a pulp? Don't all – or almost all – movies end happily?

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He faces forward, inching closer to where Jongdae is. Jongdae's sitting on the floor, cross-legged. His chin is propped on his clasped hands and the wind is tousling his hair. Up close, he doesn't look as if he's glowing; it looks as if he's burning, being reduced to ashes. His cheeks are pulled down. There are pimples and scars on his cheeks, blemishes that would normally be hidden beneath a sheet of foundation or whatever make up Soojung has decided to put on him. His lips are pressed to a thin, thin line. They're chapped. One side is bleeding.

He's staring at the scene in front of him – tiny Gonjiam-eup with the sunset as the backdrop – through half-lidded eyes. All his shields are up; it almost feels like a dismissal.

Kyungsoo sinks to his knees, then sits beside Jongdae. "Sorry," Jongdae whispers. The wind swallows the word, though, when it blows against their faces. Jongdae tucks his chin and waits for the wind to subside. His hair is a mess now and Kyungsoo would reach out if he could, run his hands through Jongdae's hair and ruffle it, but Jongdae has too many walls up. There are bricks upon bricks slotted between them, keeping them apart. The three inches between them feels like three long kilometers, and Kyungsoo can't run long distances. He's just climbed four floors of a steep staircase; his knees have long given up on him.

He doesn't want to give up on Jongdae, though.

"Sorry," Jongdae says again, louder this time that his voice soars above the whistling of the blowing wind. He draws his legs closer to his chest, and Kyungsoo leans back to get a better look at Jongdae. Jongdae looks up, then, finally meeting Kyungsoo's gaze, and Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict. His throat runs dry and wave of cold engulfs him, takes over him as Jongdae tries to smile. "I thought I could do it but I can't. I wanted to make it work, you know? I tried to. But I just–" Jongdae laughs. It comes out dry and choked. It almost sounds as if he's crying for help. "Years after and it still _haunts_ me. It's so silly. I was, what, ten then? You'd think close to two decades after you'd have already gotten over a tragic incident, but _no._ You never get over it. You never get over something as traumatic as seeing your parents die saving you."

Kyungsoo takes in a sharp breath. He tilts his head a little. "What... led to it? Why did it have to happen?"

Jongdae exhales through his nose. It sounds a lot like a scoff, like can't believe himself, that's he's been reduced to _this._ "It was also summer then, when it happened. I don't know exactly but–" He shakes his head. "Hyung said it started with a tiny fire from the candle. Some people said they heard an explosion at the back. That's... close to where our kitchen was." He rubs his nose against his knees. "But investigations say that someone plotted the whole incident, that someone intended to murder my parents. It makes sense – they work in a bank. Of course, they can't approve all the requests for loans. Of course, _someone_ would hate them, but who?"

Kyungsoo swallows hard, but his throat feels too dry and tight. And his muscles aren't cooperating with him. They feel heavy and sore. He feels sore all over. And he can hear the thundering pulse at the back of his ears. He parts his lips to speak, but nothing comes out. All the words he's been keeping at bay, all the coherent thoughts he has prepared for when he's put in a tough situation where he has to be 'spontaneous' – all those words just fade into thin air. _Disappear._ Like they've been swallowed by the ground whole. He worries his bottom lip, then, and asks, "Why didn't you tell me?"

Jongdae shrugs. "You know, honestly? I really wanted to do it. I wanted to... conquer my fears once and for all." Jongdae lets out a long exhale. "And when I read the script, I thought, hey, this is the perfect opportunity. I get to broaden my experience and force myself to get over my fears from the past. I won't have an excuse to not try hard enough to get over their death. _I can do it._ But as we started crossing off scenes, as we drew closer to that scene where–"

"Where the building burns down," Kyungsoo whispers. Something in Jongdae's eyes flickers. Kyungsoo can't tell what it is at the moment. He doesn't know this look, hasn't studied it well enough for him to know how to deal with it. So he sticks with what he knows best – playing safe, playing his favorite cards right. Cautiously treading foreign territory and looking around in case someone's waiting for him to make a misstep and to fall. He takes a deep breath, then continues, "And the people inside actually... celebrate. Because they've succeeded in beating the system."

"The scene where Junho faces his fears," Jongdae adds. He worries his bottom lip. "The scene where he finally decides to speak up and tell the doctors that he's done with their shit, that he doesn't need them; he just needs to want to live and move on. I wanted to get to that part. It's... It's the best part of the movie." He lets out a low laugh, still scratchy and breathy. The corners of his mouth are tugged up a little, but it's so light a tug that it could just be Jongdae running his tongue along the front of his teeth. Soon, the smile blooms into something bigger, brighter, a broad smile that reaches his eyes. It doesn't quite breathe life into his eyes yet, though, just adds enough color to his cheeks.

Then the light of the sunset hits him, softening the dark circles under his eyes and washing out the pimples on his cheeks. He looks less like a ghost and more human now. More... Jongdae.

"Baek outdid himself this time, he really did. Didn't think he could write something this... emotional," Jongdae whispers. He laughs a little at that, the corners of his eyes softening. He reaches over, then, tugging at the hem of Kyungsoo's shirt. The pads of his fingers are cold, but his smile is warm. Kyungsoo shivers against the press of Jongdae's fingers to his own. "And you're a great director. You've... helped me feel things characters normally won't. You're... really great at advocating method acting. You'd make a great actor, you know."

Kyungsoo snorts. "I've done it once. I don't have to do it again." He takes a deep breath, and when Jongdae tugs on his shirt he moves even closer. The warmth of Jongdae's side seeps through his shirt, tickles his skin and makes his stomach lurch. "I'm better off behind the lens."

"Trying once isn't enough," Jongdae answers. "Sometimes you have to try and try again."

"Not for this. Not for acting." Jongdae nudges him in his side, but it doesn't hurt. There's a dull ache in Kyungsoo's waist but it's manageable. _Bearable._ If anything, it knocks wind back into Kyungsoo's lungs and makes him breathe again. It restores the feeling in his fingers, hands, limbs. He can feel his pulse, fast and heavy, at the back of his knees. "I'll just do my best at directing and make sure people do their shit. It's what I'm good at, but there's nothing wrong with getting even better." He slips his hand between their pressed bodies and rests it atop Jongdae's own. He gives Jongdae's hand a light squeeze. "There's... just one thing."

Jongdae leans back a little and meets his gaze. The smile on his lips tugs down into a frown, then juts out into a pout. Now _there's_ the Jongdae he met years ago, in Donghae-si. There's the Jongdae he saw again years after, in a haunted hospital in Gonjiam-eup. This is the person he knows, not the stranger who'd looked up at him with desperation in his eyes and defeat in the hunch of his shoulders. This _is_ Jongdae, the man who walks into the room with nothing but his sunshine smile in hand but draws people to himself without meaning to. This is the hero Kyungsoo had looked up to two decades ago, the same person he'd placed his trust in. This is Kim Jongdae, his actor and his talent. His friend. But there's still a hint of hesitation in Jongdae's features, in the way his lips quiver and his eyebrows twitch. In the way he hooks his fingers on Kyungsoo's own and gives Kyungsoo's hand a tentative squeeze.

"You... You don't have to do that, you know," he begins, voice cracking a little. He breathes in noisily through his nose, then lets out a shaky exhale. "You have to do your job. Part of that is not giving special treatment to people. If you–" Jongdae shakes his head. "If you change the script for me, what happens to the others? The other scenes we've already shot? Or– Or to the whole story, the _message_ Baekhyun's trying to relay when he wrote the script? It's–" He laughs. It sounds more like a wheeze or a cough. The smile on his lips wanes. Kyungsoo feels a shiver run down his spine. "It's not worth it, Soo. It's... inconvenient. I'm just one person. You have an entire production that might suffer the consequences of my, I don't know, bad experience? Trauma? It's... I'll do it."

"But–" But it doesn't matter, Kyungsoo wants to say. He knows how it feels to be forced to be okay with everything, to convince yourself that you'll be okay even if you know very well that you aren't. He knows how it feels to have to lie to yourself for years. So he shakes his head, grips Jongdae tight by the wrist. "We don't have to edit the script drastically or anything. We can change it a bit. Reach a compromise. Find a workaround or something. Jongdae–" He lets out a long and loud exhale. "We make movies to teach people a lesson, not to fool them into thinking that everything's sunshine and rainbows. And if we keep pretending that everything will be alright, if you just 'suck it up' and do the scene but drive yourself crazy after– That's lying to people. That's lying to _yourself._ That goes against the very point in why we're doing this."

Jongdae scoffs. There's a small smile on his lips, thought, just a light upward tug on the corners of his mouth. "To scare the ghosts of our past away?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. "To expose ourselves to ghosts so that one day, we may be immune to them," he begins. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on the side of his thumb quickening. He can feel his own pulse in the press of his thumb on Jongdae's skin. "That's when we fight back. That's when we drive them away. and tell them to never come back."

Jongdae laughs a little. "What if they're stubborn ghosts who keep coming back?"

"Then we remind them that they're just ghosts and that they can't hurt us." Kyungsoo shifts in his seat, turning to his side to face Jongdae. "Because they're just ghosts, and unless we believe in them, they won't bring us harm. They're not real."

Jongdae's eyes widen, and his lips fall open into a small 'o'. Kyungsoo waits – for a response, for Jongdae to say something, _anything_ , but to no avail. Jongdae's just looking at him, staring, head tilted to the side and eyebrows joined together in a light knot. And his hand is shaking. His fingers are trembling in the tight circle of his hand around Kyungsoo's wrist. Kyungsoo feels his chest constrict.

"But... I have a third eye," Jongdae whispers. He laughs a little, shaking his head like he's acknowledging that he's just delivered a really bad joke. "I mean– I–"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath, then gets on his knees. Sometimes, it isn't enough to use incantations to drives spirits away. So he lunges forward, wrapping his arms around Jongdae like a cocoon and pulling Jongdae close to his chest. He runs one hand up and down Jongdae's back, a gentle caress along his spine as he whispers in Jongdae's ear, "You're crazy." Jongdae's body goes rigid, muscles tensing against Kyungsoo's own, then his body goes slack. And then Jongdae's burying his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck, murmuring something indiscernible against Kyungsoo's skin. Never mind that Kyungsoo reeks of catering food and sweat and fatigue, or that his heart is racing in his chest, beating loudly and wildly against Jongdae's own. Jongdae's body has stopped shaking. Jongdae's fingers are no longer cold and trembling. And Kyungsoo can feel the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips burning marks on his skin, the light laughter Jongdae breathes out at the same time that he mumbles, "No, you're crazy, you cuddle bear."

"You... used to do this when we were kids," Kyungsoo whispers. Jongdae shifts a little but doesn't pull away. His pulse is heavy on Kyungsoo's skin. "When you'd... protect me from those bullies throwing pebbles at me in the park. The tall kids who'd always make fun of me." Kyungsoo chuckles, winces when he feels a dull ache on his nape, his shoulders, his back. Years after and there are still shadows, _ghosts_ of those bullies following him around. He shakes his head, shakes those ghosts off his back. He has to do this for himself. For Jongdae. "And after a while, they'd get tired of attacking and leave. Then you'd say–"

"Don't listen to them," Jongdae mumbles. Kyungsoo takes a sharp breath and squeezes Jongdae's arms a little. "Don't listen to them because they don't see what you see. They can't understand what you know about the world. And that's what makes them the real losers and _you_ the winner."

Kyungsoo chuckles. "I can't believe you still remember the whole thing."

Jongdae hums. The vibrations tickle Kyungsoo's skin. "I'm an actor. I'm good at remembering lines, things. It's forgetting that I have trouble with."

Then let me help, Kyungsoo wants to say. Let me help you drive the ghosts away, let me help you get back up. Let me help you _forget_. But he doesn't. Instead, he says, "It isn't easy. It takes time. It will take a long time," because it's true – nothing good ever comes out of something easy. The best things, the most fulfilling ones, are the ones you pour so much time, effort, blood and sweat into. Sometimes, you have to experience how it is to hit rock bottom, to hit the ground fast and hard to be able to appreciate the joy in floating in the air, slowly falling from the skies and having enough time to look around to see the beauty around you. You have to get nasty cuts, bumps, and scars to be able to feel the relief of watching wounds heal. You have to live in the dark to be able to know that hey, this bright white thing? It's strong enough to counter the darkness. Strong enough to lead people to where you are to pull you out of the shadows. And then you'll realize that there are people around you who'll always, _always_ be willing to pull you out of the shadows and into the light. People who'll be willing to _help._

"I can help," he says after a while. Jongdae pulls away a little and looks up, meeting his gaze. "Let me help you, Jongdae."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Reversal of roles, huh? The little kid's the one saving the hero now?" He reaches up and pinches Kyungsoo's nose. "What script are we following now?"

Kyungsoo shakes his head. This isn't a reversal of roles. They're two heroes fighting the same villain, taking down the same ghosts. They're part of the same team. So he says, "There _is_ no script," pins Jongdae in place with a gaze and offers him a smile. He doesn't grimace when Jongdae sticks his tongue out at him, doesn't budge when Jongdae pinches his cheeks and jabs him in the gut.

"You're weird," Jongdae whispers, laughing. "Really weird."

Kyungsoo snorts, lips parted and poised to speak, but Jongdae reaches up and cups Kyungsoo's cheeks with his hands. Kyungsoo waits for the joke, the punchline, for Jongdae to squeeze his cheeks again and maybe make fun of the look of surprise on his face, but it doesn't come. Instead, Jongdae just looks at him, eyes dropping from the bridge of Kyungsoo's nose down to the gentle swell of his lips. And Jongdae pulls him close, _closer_ , close enough that he can see the crack on Jongdae's lips, close enough that he can see how long Jongdae's eyelashes are. "Also, very cute," Jongdae whispers, then cranes his neck to press a soft kiss to Kyungsoo's forehead. He can feel his pulse quickening in his palms, the back of his ears and his knees, on the base of his throat, but nothing burns more than the brush of Jongdae's lips on his skin.

"Thank you," Jongdae says. "For being a hero. My little hero."

Jongdae's lips quirk up, and then he's leaning in again to place a soft kiss to the tip of Kyungsoo's nose. Kyungsoo curls his fingers, balling his hands into fists, and takes a deep breath, holds in all the air in his chest until Jongdae moves south, sinking to eye level with him and brushing their lips together, brief and feather-light. "And for remembering," Jongdae whispers when he pulls away. The corners of his mouth are tugged up now and his teeth are peeking from the slight parting of his lips. There's the same old kid Kyungsoo met back when he was in Donghae-si, the same kid who'd saved him even when he hadn't asked for help. The same kid who'd enveloped his arms around Kyungsoo in an effort to keep Kyungsoo from getting hurt. A familiar sizzle rolls down his abdomen as he chases after Jongdae's lips. He closes his eyes this time, blurs the image of the sunset at the back of his eyelids. He focuses on the movement of Jongdae's lips against his, the inelegant slide of their mouths, the warmth of Jongdae's palms on his shoulders. The fit of their bodies here at the height of summer, in the rooftop of an abandoned hospital, miles away from home.

This isn't in the script, a voice in his head says, but he pushes that to the back of his mind and balls his fists in Jongdae's shirt. This is the outtake, what happens behind the scenes that's better than the story itself. This is the magic that happens long after the main storyline has come to an end. It's the snippet that comes after the credits that always, always catches people unaware. This is the perfect ad lib that spices up all that's been rehearsed.

They are the greatest stunt ever. They are at tipping point, ready to freefall. So Kyungsoo pushes himself off the ledge, pulling Jongdae along with him through the link of their hands.

They fly.


	3. Chapter 3

"And it's a wrap!" Kyungsoo holds his hands up in the air and claps, three beats to the collective shouts of joy from the crew. "Good job, everyone!"

Jongdae stands from where he's sitting cross-legged on the floor, then bows to the cast and crew. He grips his knees, knuckles turning white with every passing second. Sunyoung joins him, standing from her wheel chair and reaching for Jongdae's hand. Sehun follows suit, but not before rubbing his eyes with his balled fists. None of this is rehearsed, but it looks as if they've been practicing some choreographed dance for a while already. It might as well be true – Kyungsoo has been working with these people, always the same set of people almost everyday for the past five months. When you spend almost your entire day dealing with the same people, sharing stories with them, watching them grow, it's hard not to care. It's hard not to find a part of them in yourself. So it doesn't surprise Kyungsoo when he feels his chest constrict, when his stomach lurches as Baekhyun holds his hands up in his direction, clapping at him. It doesn't surprise him that his throat becomes tight and dry when Jongdae meets his gaze and mouths, 'come here.'

He shakes his head. 'Nope,' he mouths right back, then steps back a little. Joonmyun and Minseok have joined the cast now, and Baekhyun's walking over to where the group is. Joonmyun holds out one hand, reaching for Baekhyun's own, and Baekhyun raises his hand in Kyungsoo's direction. He cocks an eyebrow at Kyungsoo, then, like he's saying, 'Are you really gonna play hard-to-get and stay up there your tiny seat in the crane? Really?' But then there's a good distance between them and Kyungsoo's eyesight is shit at six in the morning. He can just be imagining things. Baekhyun can be looking at the crane and marveling how Kyungsoo can stay up there when he's deathly afraid of heights. Baekhyun can be looking at anything or nothing at all.

But then Baekhyun's handing something to Jongdae and now Jongdae is waving something in the air that looks a lot like his glasses. Kyungsoo grumbles and sticks up his middle finger in the air in response. To the crane operator, he says, "Bring me down."

Jongdae winks in his direction. Or maybe he's just blinking away the sweat cascading down his forehead. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes and shifts his gaze to his feet. At the age of thirty, he's already come to accept that there are battles that he cannot fight. This – the allure of Jongdae's smile, the way Jongdae is looking at him becoming clearer as he descends from the crane, the way Jongdae is watching him like the idea of him breathing is so fascinating – this is a losing fight.

It's been a week since they shot the scene with the hospital burning down to ashes. They'd add the flames and the ruins in post-production, but Jongdae had to act out what it felt like being trapped inside a burning building. They could've tweaked the scene a bit, cut straight to Jongdae exiting the building instead of showing him navigating the halls, trying to save his fellow patients, but Jongdae said no. Jongdae insisted, "I'll do it. It won't look realistic if you guys set the place on fire and I just get out of there without going through shit inside. I'm the lead. Of course something bad will happen to me first. The drama lends well to the ending." Then he looked at Kyungsoo in the eye, gripped him by the shoulders, and said, "If you don't make me do it, I'll–" So Kyungsoo just rolled his eyes and nodded even before Jongdae could finish. He gestured at Baekhyun as if saying, 'let Jongdae do the thing, no buts.' There was no point in arguing. Jongdae was right – it was going to make the ending more hard-hitting. It was going to help both the film _and_ himself. It's like shooting two birds with one stone and shedding more than just a tear in the process. Jongdae was shedding the skin of his old acting ways. He's growing into his new skin, something that makes him feel good. Something that empowers him.

It is, to date, one of Jongdae's best acting stints ever. Kyungsoo would know; he marathoned Jongdae's movies the same day he met the cast. When Baekhyun asked why, he reasoned out, "I'm doing it for research." It was a half truth. The other half was him trying to recall where he'd seen that face, that smile before. He's pretty sure he already had.

And now, Kyungsoo remembers counting down to one from ten once Jongdae had emerged from the supposed-burning hospital, remembers yelling 'cut' at the top of his lungs as soon as the last syllable for 'one' left his lips. He remembers clearer than he can recall his own college graduation the way Jongdae's features shifted, the way Jongdae looked over his shoulder to look _at Kyungsoo._ He remembers the smile on Jongdae's lips and Jongdae rushing in his direction with that blinding smile.

Kyungsoo remembers the way Jongdae wrapped his arms around him, the way Jongdae buried his face in the crook of his neck and whispered, again and again, like a prayer, 'I did it, I did it. _I did it–_ '

"Careful," comes a familiar voice. Kyungsoo blinks a few times and that's when it registers – being at eye level with Baekhyun, his feet touching the ground. His glasses are still in Jongdae's possession. Jongdae's eyes are focused, discerning, and he's walking over to where Kyungsoo and Baekhyun are. "Look, just because we're done taping doesn't mean you can get reckless and just jump off the crane. I still need you for the editing." Baekhyun grumbles. He tugs on the sleeve of Kyungsoo's shirt. "Don't be stupid."

Kyungsoo rolls his eyes. He punches Baekhyun on the arm, just a light jab that shouldn't hurt much. He tightens his hold on Baekhyun's shoulders, then, and begins to make his descent. His knees still feel weak from spending too much time up there in the air. So he keeps his grip on Baekhyun tight, even tighter as Jongdae stops right behind Baekhyun.

"I'm not stupid," Kyungsoo mutters. He slides his hand down, giving Baekhyun's wrist a light squeeze, then drops his hand to his side. "My glasses."

"Look for 'em," Baekhyun says, teasing. He sticks out his tongue at Kyungsoo, then, and adds, "See if you can actually get them back."

Kyungsoo shifts his gaze when he sees Jongdae craning his neck over Baekhyun's shoulder. Their gazes meet, and the corners of Jongdae's lips curl in acknowledgment. It isn't like one of those big grins of Jongdae's, or that smile that he can't control when he's laughing his heart out. It's just a tiny, subtle curl that reaches his eyes enough to tug up his cheeks and light up his features. It's a 'Jongdae smile' but not quite, but then it hasn't even been ten minutes since the last take. He's still in his character's attire, in Junho's casual get up that he wears when he visits orphans left in the facility by their parents because of their condition. He looks too formal, too 'grown up', like he's been forcefully slipped into adult clothes that don't even fit him. He's still _in character._ 'It takes me ages to slip out of it,' he remembers Jongdae mentioning way back, during one of those ten-minute breaks between takes. The slicked back hair suits him, though, and the fit of his coat makes his shoulders look broad.

Kyungsoo pinches Baekhyun in the stomach, and Baekhyun jerks back. Jongdae steps to his side, narrowly eluding the brunt force of Baekhyun's actions. He cocks an eyebrow at Kyungsoo. "Looking for something?"

"Are _you_ looking for something? Or some _one?_ " Kyungsoo asks right back. He holds Jongdae's gaze for a moment, then drops his eyes to his eyeglasses that Jongdae is holding by the the bridge. If it was Baekhyun who'd snatched his glasses, Baekhyun would just be gripping it in his hands. Then he'd get fingerprints on the lenses. Then Kyungsoo would jab Baekhyun on the arm until Baekhyun apologize for being the worst person ever because, 'Why the hell would you hold eyeglasses like that? Think, Baekhyun. _Think._ ' But this isn't Baekhyun's he's dealing with. This is Jongdae, and the way Jongdae plays the game is different from Baekhyun's techniques that Kyungsoo has gotten used to. Kyungsoo has to assess more carefully, has to make sure that he doesn't miss a spot because there's more to Jongdae's smile than meets the eye. He has to take a step forward, move even closer to read the movement of Jongdae's lips. And he has to press even closer because the throbbing of Jongdae's pulse against his skin could mean _anything_ , and Kyungsoo hates misinterpreting things.

"Give it back," Kyungsoo repeats, slower this time like it will make a difference. Jongdae only raises both eyebrows in response. So Kyungsoo says again, "Kim Jongdae, if you don't give my glasses back, I swear to God–"

Jongdae chuckles. "Empty threat," he says, _declares,_ as if he can read Kyungsoo's movements and predict what will happen next. Kyungsoo cracks his neck in response. "You can't even hurt a fly even if you wanted to. You're actually very nice," Jongdae adds. He pulls away for a moment and looks around for an audience. Baekhyun has stepped to the side, body turned to the right but his head facing Kyungsoo and Jongdae's general direction. Joonmyun is alternating between chatting with the crew and listening to whatever Sehun is saying. Sunyoung and Minseok are laughing with one of the lighting assistants and their only clapper. So Jongdae takes a step closer, leans in, inches forward until his lips brush Kyungsoo's earlobe. "And you don't even bite."

Kyungsoo shuts his eyes, then mutters, " _Jongdae,_ " like it's taking him all the control in his body, all his will-power to not jab Jongdae on the arm again and ball his hands into fists in Jongdae's shirt. Like it's becoming increasingly difficult to breathe with Jongdae's lips wet and warm against Kyungsoo's skin. "I don't get the charm of biting," he whispers when he feels his fingers again. He leans back, half of him missing the hot press of their bodies and the half of him feeling relieved that Jongdae has given him space to breathe. "It hurts."

Jongdae hums, then unfolds Kyungsoo's glasses. "I think it would be nice to see marks on your skin, where your moles are," he singsongs. He slips Kyungsoo's glasses between Kyungsoo's ears and face. The glasses hang heavily on the tip of Kyungsoo's nose. The feeling in his chest, tight and numbing, is heavier, though. Having to hold back and keep himself from touching Jongdae more than necessary here on set feels heavier than it should in Kyungsoo's chest. There are ten, fifteen other people who might see them, might wonder what they're doing because this isn't part of the script. And everyone knows that Kyungsoo follows the script as religiously as possible. It's already become a habit – stick to the script and you'll be on the road to success. It's been tried and tested. Make a few deviations and you'll still get there, but not without a few hiccups.

But between the old habit of playing out something that's rehearsed and always, always, _always_ being on his toes and on the lookout for Jongdae's latest trick, another ad lib, this new one's more addictive. Falling into step and into the habit of sticking too close to Jongdae is far more addictive and harder to break. But it's so easy for Jongdae to break down his walls. All it takes is a small smile, a twinkle in his eyes. A subtle cock of the eyebrow like he's challenging Kyungsoo or teasing his mind. An accidental brush of skin on skin when Jongdae rests his hands on Kyungsoo's shoulders, thumbs pressing down in Kyungsoo's collarbones as Jongdae says, "Treat it as a souvenir. Something to remember me by."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Trust me, you're hard to forget," he mumbles. If it was easy then Kyungsoo wouldn't have a perfect recollection of the time Jongdae, still too young and naive, ruffled Kyungsoo's hair and placed a soft kiss on his forehead to make him stop crying. If it was easy to forget Jongdae then he wouldn't be able to recall in perfect detail the way Jongdae cupped his cheeks a week ago, the way Jongdae memorized the contours of his mouth and the way his lips moved with his tongue, the way Jongdae fought back with just as much intensity, as much want. If it was easy then the ghost of Jongdae's lips won't keep haunting him in his sleep, during downtime, when he's thinking of how to get to the next scene without having to back Jongdae against any flat surface and kiss him senseless. If it was easy then it won't be hard to forget the way Jongdae held him like he was the most precious thing, the way his stomach lurched in a mix of embarrassment and shame and delight.

"So it's hard, huh?" Jongdae asks. Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him but indulges him in a smile. "I was just asking–"

Kyungsoo reaches out and slides his fingers between Jongdae's own. Jongdae's lips fall open into a tiny 'o'. His body gives this small, almost indiscernible jerk, but by now Kyungsoo knows how Jongdae's body moves. Maybe not in the way he has Baekhyun's quirks memorized like the back of his hand, but he knows Jongdae well enough that this – the way his muscles tense, the way his fingers freeze between Kyungsoo's own, this is a question. It's one of those things in Baekhyun's script that are hard to decipher. 'Of course you'd know what that means, Soo. I mean, you're Baekhyun's director. Your minds are linked. Sort of.' He pulls Jongdae closer and juts out his bottom lip. And he grins, because the look of confusion on Jongdae's face is a thing to marvel at.

"I just want to make it clear that this... this isn't a one-time thing," he begins. He takes a deep breath and sniffles. It's almost autumn now and the winds aren't the same gentle breeze that they were during summer. Sunlight doesn't beat down on them anymore, doesn't prick their skin and set Jongdae aglow. It's been five months since he's seen Jongdae again, and in those five months so many things have changed. Talking to Baekhyun, be it over the phone or face-to-face doesn't feel like torture anymore. Chanyeol's workload has already eased considerably and Kyungsoo gets to see him looking human now. Joonmyun no longer turns the most furious shade of red when Sunyoung talks to him and asks, 'is your default face your pouting face?' And Jongdae isn't so scared of cramped places anymore. Jongdae no longer shivers at the mention of forest fires or candles or anything that burns. He no longer settles for just staring at the giving bow of Kyungsoo's mouth and clasps his hands together in an effort to keep himself from pulling Kyungsoo close. Jongdae leans in now and slides his arms around Kyungsoo's waist, pulls him to a dark corner of the set to press kisses along the slope of his neck. And Kyungsoo lets him. He lets Jongdae have his way and leans into the warmth of Jongdae's touch. Defeat isn't so bad when it's as sweet as Jongdae's lips. It doesn't seem so bad at all. "Unless you want it to end here. After I say 'cut'."

Jongdae laughs a little. He tilts his head, worries his bottom lip like he's trying to keep himself from laughing all the more. It only leaves him looking torn and confused, but then uncertainty has never been a good look on Jongdae. He's always so self-assured, so sure of his actions. There's confidence in the stretch of his body, in the way he tilts his chin up and beams at people with a smile that can light up the whole room. If there's even a hint of uncertainty in him, he can blink it away in a heartbeat. If there one 'character' he can slip out of in an instant, it's the darker side of him.

"Hey," Kyungsoo says, then, and gives Jongdae's hands a light squeeze. Jongdae peeks through the slits of his bangs. "Hey, _say something–_ "

"You're really cute," Jongdae whispers. He raises his eyebrows when Kyungsoo furrows his own, then makes this small kissy face at Kyungsoo. Kyungsoo's only scowls in response, but he's quick to tighten his hold on Jongdae when Jongdae juts out his bottom lip. "And ridiculous for ever thinking that I'll let you go so easily after tracking you down for years. You're really, _really_ crazy, did you know that?"

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. "You _what?_ "

"Well..." Jongdae drops his gaze to his feet, then kicks at the floor. Kyungsoo keeps his eyes on Jongdae, though, searching his features – for a sign, for an answer, for _anything_ that he might have missed when he was busy looking through the lens instead of straight at Jongdae. Jongdae clears his throat, coughs a little. "Heroes usually know the names of the people they save, right? I mean, how would they know who to save and make sure they're out of harm's way if they don't– _Hey!_ " He swats the hand Kyungsoo is slapping his arm with and pinches Kyungsoo in the stomach. "Look, I didn't creep up on you or anything when we were kids, okay? Your bullies were really loud and rowdy and they kept saying your name like it's part of some mating song. They even have a dance for it– _Ow!_ "

"What do you mean they have a song for my name?"

"Let me _finish,_ " Jongdae says through gritted teeth. Kyungsoo presses his lips together in response, but doesn't drop the raised eyebrow just yet. It's when Jongdae envelops his balled fists with his hands, when he feels the warm cocoon of Jongdae's fingers pressing against his skin that the furrow of his eyebrows relaxes, that the tight knot in his throat eases and loosens up completely. "I think you know by now that our departure was sudden. Well... Our house back in Donghae-si got burnt down to ashes. Umma didn't make it. Appa did, along with Jongdeok-hyung. Appa thought it would be great to start anew somewhere far away, so we went to Seoul to... get over the whole thing. Move on or something. I knew appa was suffering but he never let it show, so–"

"So you did the same thing," Kyungsoo finishes. Jongdae looks up, meeting his gaze. "Hence the genre-hopping."

"Yeah, hence the genre– How did you know that?"

Kyungsoo chuckles. "I do a background check on the people I work with. I think that's pretty common for directors." Jongdae sticks his tongue out at Kyungsoo, and Kyungsoo only kicks the tip of Jongdae's right shoe in response. Jongdae scowls, but it isn't one of his ear-shattering scowls. It sounds more like an effort to break the thin glass separating them, to trim down all the years separating them into a split-second. A hitch of a breath, a single touch. "So, your family went to Seoul"

Jongdae jerks back a little, then nods. "Right. We... went to Seoul the evening of the incident. But that afternoon, I... sort of went to the playground." He scratches his nape. "And I asked the kids there for your name because _apparently,_ you're quite the superstar. They said you'd fight back with 'intellectual stuff' but always fell short in the physical strength department. Which is why I'm surprised that you like–" Jongdae moves away a little when Kyungsoo raises a fist in his direction, but then Kyungsoo pulls him close with his other hand. "I swear to God, you'll be the death of me!"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. Smiles. Same, he wants to say. _Same,_ except it's worse because when Jongdae looks at him, touches him like he's the most precious thing ever, a part of him – resolve, restraint, self-control – dies, only to be reborn from the ashes stronger. _Wilder._ Every touch from Jongdae sends sparks to the tips of his fingers, sets off explosions in every part of him. Every brush of skin on skin sets him on fire. And this isn't something he's been trained for. This isn't part of the script of his life, but if there's something he's learned from all his years in film, it's this: the best parts, the most touching scenes in film are those that are candid, unrehearsed. _Real._

"I'll take the blame, then," Kyungsoo whispers.

Jongdae cocks an eyebrow at him. "Okay, is this you beating me up with your 'intellectual stuff'–"

"I mean," Kyungsoo begins, then clears his throat. "You say that I'm the death of you. Or will be, at least." He worries his bottom lip. "I'd gladly take the blame as long as it's not anyone else. As long as it's..." He gulps hard. "It's just me. You and me."

He feels Jongdae's muscles shift, feels Jongdae's fingers tremble against his own. He takes a deep breath and adds, "Again, if that's okay with you–"

"How many times–" Jongdae says, drawling the syllables of the last word. "–do I have to tell you that you're stuck with me forever? Soo, I moved to Seoul and left you in Donghae-si when we were kids. Two decades after, you find me in a haunted house. A fucking haunted house for a fucking horror film, a genre that I just, y'know, thought of doing on a whim. To help me get over my own self." Jongdae leans in and laughs a little. Their foreheads bump, and the tips of their noses touch a little. Bright laughter turns into soft giggles that catch on Kyungsoo's skin. It tickles. The noise around them thins into silence, and Kyungsoo feels a traitorous cold wrap around his neck. He's ready to jerk back because there are people around them. The whole cast and crew are still here, still reveling in the last-taping-day high, and maybe if they look their way they'll see something they hadn't counted on witnessing. Maybe they'll gasp or shriek or even yell at them because _this isn't in the script._ This isn't what they've been rehearsing all these five months that they've spent together. They've already crossed off all the scenes in the script, all the shots they have to take footage of for a nice and smooth edit. But that's the point – this isn't pretend. This isn't a movie where people assume personalities and characters. This is real life, and the light brush of Jongdae's lips against his own feels too good to not be real.

"And now, here we are," Kyungsoo whispers, choking somewhere in the middle.

Jongdae laughs a little. "Yeah," he says. "Here we are."

Kyungsoo pulls his hands away from link of their arms and splays his hands on Jongdae's shirt. He curls his fingers one by one, nails catching on the cloth. The pull hurts a little, but not enough to make him pull way completely. He can feel the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips, can feel more laughter bubbling on the corners of Jongdae's mouth, so he doesn't fight it. He lets the pull of Jongdae's lips guide his own into an open smile, lets the vibrations of Jongdae's lips send shivers up his spine and a tickling sensation down his throat. This time, he surrenders and giggles, laughs. _Cackles._ It's loud enough to catch everyone's attention, but not loud enough to soar above the sound of surprise that escapes Sunyoung's lips. It isn't loud enough to drown out the loud thumping in Kyungsoo's chest, in his ears, in every fiber of his being. And he knows Jongdae can hear it, too, through the press of their bodies, in the way Jongdae's pulse throbs against his skin, dancing to the beat of Kyungsoo's steady heartbeat.

And he can feel it now in the slide of their mouths, in the way Jongdae probes his mouth with his tongue and traces patterns on his skin. He can spend months memorizing this, saying these lines again and again until they're the music he sings to when he wakes up, until nothing but the sound of Jongdae's steady breathing lulls him to sleep. So he closes his eyes and parts his lips even more, breathes out laughter into the open press of Jongdae's mouth. Jongdae says his lines back in the way he slides his arms around Kyungsoo's waist to pull him closer, in the way he kisses Kyungsoo harder, deeper. Kyungsoo pulls away for a while, catching his breath, and bites a bit too hard on Jongdae's bottom lip. Then Jongdae jerks back a little, but his arms remain wrapped around Kyungsoo. His cheeks are flush with heat and his lips are red and swollen and his eyes are wide open. And Jongdae's whispering, "What the hell– Kyungsoo–" because Kyungsoo doesn't bite. He hates surprises, hates ad libs. But that can change, Kyungsoo muses as he watches the tiny 'o' of Jongdae's lips curve up into a smile. So Kyungsoo swallows that sound, his name on Jongdae's lips, on the smooth skin and between the cracks. The perfect ad lib for the perfect ending.

Maybe they should try rom-com sometime. They'd make a great team, a great tandem. Maybe even a great pair.

They are the next big hit. They are a blockbuster. And maybe they're the next big scandal waiting to happen, but Kyungsoo doesn't mind. He can live with a couple of weird and surprising things to his name. After all, what's a film without a bit of stunt and some ad libs? What's a horror film without funny blunders and hilarious outtakes? So he keeps kissing Jongdae, ignoring the cheers of the cast and crew around them. And Jongdae keeps kissing him back.

ö

Kyungsoo looks around the area, then takes a left turn. He isn't a stranger to Apgeujong, but he isn't so familiar with its streets, either. The last time he spent more than a couple of hours in Apgeujong _sober_ was for a shoot two years ago, and even then he didn't have much time to go around and explore this part of Seoul. Jongdae has provided him with a very clear clue on how to spot the building of his condo, though: it's the only yellow building in the neighborhood. It's hard to miss. And it _is_ true – the moment Kyungsoo stepped out of the bus and stepped onto the streets of Apgeujong, the yellow building stood out like a sore thumb. So Kyungsoo kept his eyes on the building as he navigated the streets, turning corners and almost bumping into someone in an effort to get to the other side of the road in the quickest way possible.

He balls his hands into fists now and cracks his knuckles. The air outside during the walk was unbearable, but with the walls of the building now shielding him from the cold he feels a bit more alive. There's still a bit of the cold sticking to the pads of his fingers, though, but that might just be the work of this day. He'd much rather not attend a party – an _afterparty_ for his film, to be exact – and just sleep the whole day, but he's part of the crew. When you're the director of the production and the guy who you may or may not be going out with pleads for you to please, please, _please_ attend the party, it's hard to say no. And it's even more difficult when said guy signs off the text invitation with, 'i've got something special prepared. you're coming, right? :3'

 _here,_ Kyungsoo types in his message thread with Jongdae, then stuffs his phone in his pocket. If Baekhyun found out how Jongdae managed to convince him to come, he'd never let on.

"Hey," comes Jongdae's greeting when he opens the door. His cheeks are a bit red and his eyes are glimmering in the dim lighting here in the hallway. And there's chatter seeping from inside, soaring above the thumping music. Jongdae's playing a strange mix of rock and RnB inside, though. And Disney, Kyungsoo muses when 'Everyday' from High School Musical comes on. "Didn't think you'd actually come," he continues, voice dropping to a whisper. He opens the door wider, then, and slips between the narrow opening. He doesn't close the door behind him, though, but the gap is narrow enough to help the noise inside fade out into a thin sheet of music. There's nothing but white noise out here now, nothing but their steady breathing and Jongdae's light humming filling the hallway outside Jongdae's door.

"You asked me to come," Kyungsoo mumbles. Jongdae chuckles, then tugs at his shirtsleeves. "What? I told you, I always keep my promise."

"So do I," Jongdae replies. He pulls Kyungsoo close and guides Kyungsoo's hands to his waist. He hums. "And I promised something special for you today."

Kyungsoo snorts, but looks around for an audience. Jongdae isn't the most reckless of movie stars, but with the scent of alcohol thick in Jongdae's breath Jongdae might as well be a bit too tipsy too give in to whatever the voice at the back of his mind is telling him. And maybe Kyungsoo _is_ drunk, as well – on fatigue, on the need to be warm after walking down the streets of Apgeujong with the cool winds of autumn blowing against him, on the need to get Jongdae even closer so he can taste the alcohol in Jongdae's mouth and get drunk with that, too. The press of Jongdae's hand on his own is warm, damp, and Jongdae's too close but not quite. The tips of their noses touch, brushing against each other when Kyungsoo motions to lean in, but Jongdae pulls away just enough to put a torturous distance between them. Two long centimeters, a touch and a breath away. If he wanted to, he'd lean in and crush his lips into Jongdae's own without preamble. If he could, he'd suck on Jongdae's bottom lip until he could elicit a moan from Jongdae and make him scream. But Jongdae's a celebrity and there might be cameras focused on them at this very moment. Fame does that to you, makes you hyperaware of your surroundings. It reminds you of the fact that you're never truly alone, that there will always be a watchful eye following you around.

He won't ruin Jongdae's career just because he wants to get a taste of the alcohol in Jongdae's mouth. Acting is to Jongdae as translating words into movies is to Kyungsoo – a refuge, a harbor. That one thing that he knows he can't screw up. And if he does decide to give in, he won't do it without Jongdae's signal. If he ever takes the leap then he'll ask Jongdae first why they're jumping, in the first place. So he asks, "How much alcohol have you had?"

 

Jongdae shrugs. He shifts in his position, stepping to his side, then opens the door behind him. "Just enough," he whispers before pulling Kyungsoo inside. Not quite enough, though, for him to forget that he's Kim Jongdae and not one of the characters he portrays in the films he's done. Not drunk enough for him to kiss Kyungsoo senseless in the hallway without a care in the world, not enough to help him ease out of his character in a blink of an eye. They're safe. Jongdae looks around this time before closing the door, then locks it behind him. "Welcome to the party."

Kyungsoo takes a step forward and looks around him. He can spot a few familiar faces even with the bad lighting – very _dim_ lighting, he corrects himself – inside. Joonmyun and Minseok are chatting with Sunyoung in a corner. Some of the cameramen are near the bar, clinking glasses together and yelling 'cheers!' everytime they lock eyes with one another. It's hilarious, even more when the lightsmen and the editors join them in a mini game of 'dare and an even raunchier dare'. Adult games, that's what they call it, something that newbies in the film industry wouldn't even want to attempt. Sehun has two glasses in hand and is making his way to where Joonmyun and Minseok are. Kyungsoo can't tell just yet if Sehun had gotten two glasses of whiskey or if Sehun 's bluffing and actually drinking apple juice. Baekhyun, meanwhile, is with Soojung, eyebrows furrowed and lips pursed as he engages her in a conversation. His hands are in the air, caught in an elaborate gesture, like he's trying to get his point across but alcohol has made his speech a bit too slurred and senseless.

Then he catches Kyungsoo's gaze, cocks an eyebrow when their eyes meet. Baekhyun shifts in his seat, then, and mouths in Kyungsoo's direction, 'we have to talk!'

He laughs a little. Trust Baekhyun to be able to slip into a different character in a span of a minute. He's had enough experience with wearing too many skins at any given time, after all. Kyungsoo shakes his head in response, then mouths at Baekhyun, 'Food first.' Baekhyun shrugs in reply and nods, as if to say, 'Whatever.' Or maybe he isn't saying anything at all, just looking in Kyungsoo's general direction. It's hard to tell with the dim lighting around them, with the way Baekhyun hides behind his glass of alcohol. Anything that has a shitload of whiskey or tequila in it, possibly, if Baekhyun hasn't changed from when they'd last shared a drink back when they were in university. There are a lot of things Baekhyun is keen on changing; his choice in alcohol is not one of them.

'Later,' Kyungsoo answers, and lets Jongdae pull him to the other direction. Jongdae guides him to the buffet table, then, and leaves him a peck on the cheek. His body gives a tiny jerk, almost like an afterthought, then Jongdae looks around him. Everyone else is minding their own business, but there's still the sinking suspicion that anyone might call them out on this 'little thing' of theirs. Capture it on video or in photos. Release the material to the public. Put their careers and the peace of their lives at stake.

"Sorry, I'll... I'll find you later," Jongdae whispers. Kyungsoo gives his hand a light squeeze. The tension in Jongdae's features lifts, then, his cheeks relaxing and his fingers that are between Kyungsoo's own stilling in the fit of their hands. "Hosting duties. You know how it goes," he reasons.

 

"Hosting duties? That's all?"

Jongdae shrugs. "Maybe I'm sneaking in a cute little guy into my room and just hiding him from you–"

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow. "I don't think anyone can be as cute," he mumbles, voice just barely above a whisper. "I mean– Go get 'em, tiger," he amends, then bites inside of his cheek. He can hear Jongdae giggling, can feel it in the fit of their bodies and the way Jongdae's chest thumps against his. Jongdae traces the curve of his cheek, then, and tilts his chin up. Their gazes meet. There's no running away now, no hiding from the bright lights in Jongdae's eyes and the sweet allure of his smile. There's no turning away from the way Jongdae's looking at him – eyes mismatched and mouth twisted in a way that makes him look as if he's fighting the urge to cackle, to draw attention to himself. But it's not as if he wants to run away from this – from Jongdae and this moment, with darkness draped all over them, shielding them from the rest of the world. But–

"Hosting duties," Kyungsoo whispers through gritted teeth. Jongdae chuckles, then heaves a sigh. He pulls away, then, and turns on his heel, but leans back in to pinch the tip of his nose. Then he's walking away, his figure disappearing into a corner.

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and takes the first glass of alcohol he sees. This will be a long night.

The evening passes in a blur, in one too many bottles of beer and soju or whatever alcohol Baekhyun is passing around shots of. Kyungsoo goes around after a while, moving from one table to another and falling into conversation with people in an effort to stay awake. It's not even midnight yet, but already he can feel the pull of fatigue on his eyelids. This is what age does to you, he supposes. Five years ago, he probably would have been sitting with the hardcore drinkers or playing Flip Cup with people. Or maybe be one of those people taking shots for the lightweights because who the hell passes out after three shots of Cuervo? But he's past that stage now. He's in the stage of his life where Chivas on the rocks doesn't sound like a 'daddy drink' anymore.

He spots Baekhyun in a corner and grabs another glass of whiskey. He loves being alone and being left to his own thoughts, but the noise makes it impossible to think. He grabs another glass when he sees that Baekhyun isn't holding one anymore. Jongdae had given him a drink earlier, but then it's been a good twenty, thirty minutes since that happened. And Baekhyun's always been known to be a fast drinker. 

He cranes his neck and gives the place one last look, searching for Jongdae before heading in Baekhyun's direction. Jongdae's probably chatting up someone in the shadows. There aren't any cute boys here other than the people Kyungsoo knows; he isn't threatened.

He walks over to where Baekhyun is and gives Baekhyun's ear a pinch as a greeting. "Oh. You're bored," Baekhyun says in return, eyebrows raised. He pats the small empty space beside him then says, "C'mere, kid. Or would you want to sit on my lap?"

"No," Kyungsoo says, snorting. Baekhyun rolls his eyes, then, and makes space for him on the couch. There's no contempt in his actions, though, only a small smile on the curl of his lips when Kyungsoo settles on the empty space. Baekhyun slaps him on the arm, but snakes an arm around his shoulder. And then he leans in, submits to the warmth of the fit of their bodies, surrenders to routine and familiarity and all these years of friendship stretched between then. Kyungsoo's drunk enough to rest his head on Baekhyun's shoulder, just drunk enough to maybe guide Baekhyun's hand to his thigh and then further south, but then it's been years. It's been years since they've last shared more than a handshake or a glance or a brush of the knuckles. It's been years since Baekhyun stuck his hand down Kyungsoo's pants, years since Kyungsoo last bucked into Baekhyun's touch like a stimulus. It's been years since they've last pulled each other into a dark corner of a room, or backed each other against a wall, or pressed against each other without using inebriation as an excuse.

"Well, this is a wholesome encounter," Baekhyun says, laughing a little. He drops his hand to Kyungsoo's thigh, then drums his fingers on it. Their eyes meet. Baekhyun's eyes are focused, his eyebrows furrowed in a tight knot. The corners of his lips are pulled up, though, just a small upward tug of the lip. Kyungsoo knows this look – it's one Baekhyun wears when he's thinking, trying to make sense of things, _assessing_. When he's just been hit by a realization and he can't say 'shit' because he's in front of a huge group of people who'd think differently of the famous screenplay writer Byun Baekhyun if he so much as used a curse word in front of them.

Baekhyun chuckles. He pinches Kyungsoo in his side. "He's... changed you."

"He _what?_ " Kyungsoo furrows his eyebrows and shifts in his seat so that he's facing Baekhyun. "What do you mean?"

Baekhyun takes a deep breath and snatches one of the glasses in Kyungsoo's hands. He takes a sip, then another, and then another until he's seething and scrunching his nose. "Should've waited until the whiskey's been diluted. What the hell were you thinking of?"

"What the hell were _you_ thinking of?" Kyungsoo retorts. He gives his own glass a little swirl, then takes a sip. He can feel the burn in his throat, the burst of warmth in his chest as the alcohol kicks in. "I got these for myself."

"No, you didn't. You never take two glasses at once. You have this–" Baekhyun gesticulates with his hands, trying to find the words, but falls short. He drops his hands in front of him. "You like finishing stuff before starting on new ones. You have– _Ah,_ closure issues."

Kyungsoo snorts. "Wow. When did you get so wise?"

"And when did you get this bored after meeting Jongdae to seek me out?" A smile dances on Baekhyun's lips, pulling up the corners of his mouth. He ends with a wink. Kyungsoo grimaces, but it's mostly for show – this is something they've gotten used to. It's one of those scenes they can re-enact completely from memory and nail down to the very last letter. "I know he's been keeping you busy. You two are very careful when you go out. I mean, no stalker pics and all but dude, come on." Baekhyun rolls his eyes. "I've seen the way he looks at you and I've seen the way you look at him. You two are so cute, it's hilarious. I'm not even kidding."

Kyungsoo cocks an eyebrow at him. "That's kind of hard to believe."

"I wish I was kidding, but eh." Baekhyun shrugs. "It's... the end of an era, I guess. The end of something that could've started sooner." Baekhyun slides his hand up Kyungsoo's thigh and traces patterns on it – a spiral, a star, a heart. "We could've been a great pair, y'know. Tandem. Love team, whatever you want to call it." He rubs the underside of his nose, and Kyungsoo nudges Baekhyun in his side with his elbow. Baekhyun scowls in response but doesn't do anything else. He hasn't stopped drawing on Kyungsoo's thigh just yet. This new doodle looks like a house. "But I guess we were... just too stupid that time to know what we wanted. Or what we didn't." He chuckles. "I guess I'm one of those late bloomers."

"One of the slow ones, you mean," Kyungsoo mumbles. Baekhyun kicks him in his calf and snarls. "Better late than never, though."

Baekhyun leans back and gives Kyungsoo a long look. He has his bottom lip caught between his teeth and his eyebrows in a tight know, but the corners of his mouth are tilted up. Or at least that's what it looks like, here in the dim lighting of the room and with all the alcohol in his system. But then he's spent years studying every quirk of Baekhyun's lips, cheeks, eyes, _face_ that he can't be imagining things. And Baekhyun's shaking his head lightly, just enough to give his hair a quick fluff, as he says, "So I guess you're not slowing down for me anymore, are you?"

Kyungsoo presses his lips together in a tight smile. "Our show's long over. We're not renewing our contract."

"Stop–" Baekhyun rolls his eyes. "Stop using movie parallelisms."

"That's the best way to make you understand, though." Because they've always spoken two different languages – Baekhyun using his tongue, and Kyungsoo using his limbs. Baekhyun communicates through words and Kyungsoo relays a message through his actions. Working alongside each other, they're the best tandem to hit Hollywood. But them trying to make ends meet is a disaster waiting to happen. "No more sequels. You know we're a really bad movie waiting to happen."

Baekhyun snorts. His eyes are still sullen, though, but at least the furrow of his eyebrows has eased. He punches Kyungsoo in the gut, just a light jab and a twist of his fist. "A no-budget movie. Like, a really crappy one that makes use of phone cams."

"We all started with phone cams, big shot."

"And we all start crappy until we make shit work," Baekhyun replies. He pinches Kyungsoo in his stomach. "And we did. It just... didn't work the way we wanted it to."

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath and rests a hand atop Baekhyun's own on his stomach. He can feel the warmth of Baekhyun's hand through his shirt, can feel the light tremble of Baekhyun's fingers against his skin. And he can feel his stomach grumbling. Maybe this is his body's way of reminding him that he's thirty and that those things that he did back in college? He can't do those anymore. He can't abuse his body and hope that he won't suffer its consequences. He can't keep trying to recycle trash in the hope of producing wonderful out of it. So he tosses the trash over his shoulder and takes out a new sheet of paper. He tosses a really old project in the trash bin and gets started on a new script. Maybe not one of Baekhyun's, but he won't be opposed to doing horror again. Not if the script's just as good as Baekhyun's. Not if Jongdae is given the lead role.

Or maybe he _should_ pick up an entirely different genre. He hasn't tried his hand at romcom yet. It will be a refreshing project.

"Hey, boys," comes a familiar voice from over his shoulder. Kyungsoo looks up, then, blinks a few times, trying to refocus his vision. Alcohol has made his mind fuzzy and his eyesight even shittier than it already it, but he isn't daunted. The sharp angles of the man's face look familiar; his smile, even more. "I see you're... getting really comfortable here." A pinch on the cheek, then, "Seriously, Soo."

Baekhyun snorts. "Just so you know, he won't hit on me even if it's the end of the world." He lifts his fingers from the heavy press of his hand on Kyungsoo's thighs, as if recounting all those times they'd slipped from the crowd and into a room, to the closest dark corner or an abandoned part of the room. "And _ew,_ I would _never_ even dream of sticking my hand in his pants– Geez–"

Kyungsoo laughs a little. He gives Baekhyun a light nudge in his side and stands from his seat. To Jongdae, he says, "So where's your cute boy who you've sneaked away from the crowd?"

Jongdae hums, then reaches out to hook his fingers on Kyungsoo's shirtsleeve. "I'm looking at him right now," Jongdae whispers, then wraps his fingers around Kyungsoo's wrist. "And we're sneaking into my room and away from all the noise here because it's impossible to talk with your other boy around."

Baekhyun groans and slaps Kyungsoo on the back. "I think he wants a threesome," Kyungsoo comments. Baekhyun gropes his ass in response.

It isn't until ten minutes after that they manage to slip away from the party. Half of the crew's passed out on the floor. The other half, the cast included, is still busy emptying out Jongdae's liquor closet. Sehun's cheeks are brightest shade of red. Sunyoung still looks sober, for the most part, but her elaborate movements give her away. Minseok may or may not be laughing too hard while slicing more lemons because, "Someone wean Joonmyun off the tequila, _please_. Just give him some lemonade–" but it's one of those few times that Joonmyun isn't too self-conscious, isn't so careful with his own actions. So Kyungsoo lets them goof off, lets Baekhyun join in the fun and whip out his phone to take a video of Joonmyun wiggling his ass. It's always good to have blackmail material for when Kyungsoo needs a favor from any one of them.

If he ever decides to do horror again, it has to be with this team. He can't imagine executing an elaborate horror movie with a different set of people. It won't feel as fun or exciting. It will just be shrouded with ghosts of what they could have done better, and Kyungsoo doesn't want that. There are ghosts in his life that he'd be fine with keeping; regret isn't one of them.

"Ah, _finally,_ " Jongdae says as he collapses on his bed. He doesn't stay still, though, keeps moving from side to side like a kid testing out his new bed. It's almost as if Jongdae hasn't taken one shot after another in the new drinking game Joonmyun invented after losing in the Circle of Death. He's supposed to be lugging around too much alcohol in his body and his limbs are supposed to feel sore, but it doesn't look like it. The next thing Kyungsoo knows, Jongdae's pulling him to the bed, pulling him closer until his back is pressed to Jongdae's chest. Jongdae buries his face in the crook of Kyungsoo's neck and takes a deep breath, then blows hot air on Kyungsoo's skin. Kyungsoo shivers. " _Better._ "

Kyungsoo reaches behind him, fluffing Jongdae's hair. "So you dragged me to bed just to _cuddle?_ "

"Mhmm, among other things," Jongdae replies. He presses a light kiss on the underside of Kyungsoo's jaw, then adds, "And I... wanted to talk about something."

Kyungsoo's takes a sharp, deep breath. He can feel his chest tighten, his throat constrict, his stomach rumble for a moment and then relax. Jongdae loosens his hold on Kyungsoo for a moment, then makes him turn around so that they're facing each other. Kyungsoo shivers a little at the loss of warmth, but soon he's feeling Jongdae's hot breath on his skin. It tickles. He laughs a little, but then Jongdae's lips are drawn to a thin line and his eyebrows are furrowed a little. It's almost as if he's trying to find a way to break the worst possible news to him. _In bed._ Jongdae has always had an unorthodox way of doing things,after all.

He can still smell the thick scent of alcohol in Jongdae's breath, the mix of liquor and bad decisions and a chaste kiss in the air blows out through the slight parting of his lips. And he can feel the loud and heavy beats on Jongdae's palm, in the link of their fingers. He pulls Jongdae closer, then, tugging him by his hands. "Go," he urges.

"I... got the role I auditioned for. The lead role in the action movie, remember that?" Jongdae scratches the back of his ear and laughs a little. "Well I... Taping starts in three months. So that sort of gets in the way of the horror movie's promotions but _hey,_ that's fine. I'm good with clashing schedules. They make life exciting."

"They make my head hurt because I have to coordinate with _your_ road manager," Kyungsoo mumbles. Jongdae rolls his eyes in response. The smile remains on his lips, though, lifts his cheeks and lights up his features. The lighting is dim in the room and there's nothing but moonlight filtering from the windows illuminating Jongdae's face, the wicked contours of his jaw and the sharp angles of his cheeks, but Kyungsoo can still make out quirk of Jongdae's lips. Moonlight sets him aglow, brings out the glimmer in his eyes and dulls the flush of his cheeks. It makes him look human, _alive,_ not like one of those ghosts back in Gonjiam-eup, not one of those ghosts that they've left behind. "But if this is about your schedule then don't worry about it. You don't have to attend every single variety show for the promo period. Soojung can take care of the others you can't go to. Or Sehun, but he's an even bigger headache."

"Thanks, I'll keep that in mind but–" Jongdae worries his bottom lip. "That's not it. It's about us. The thing we have. _This._ "

Kyungsoo looks up from where he's watching the movement of Jongdae's lips and meets Jongdae's gaze. Jongdae's looking straight at him, eyebrows in an easy not and lips drawn to a thin line. This isn't a Jongdae look, though; it looks more like one of Jongdae's 'actor faces', a look he wears when he's trying to get into character and getting out of it. This was the same look Junho wore when Junsu told him that he had to see a doctor for his 'condition' and that they could help because they _understand him._ Junho had spent hours, _days_ thinking about the entire arrangement but eventually yielded because Junsu had slowly warmed up to the idea of his older brother 'getting well' again. It was an entertaining thought, bringing everything back to how they were, when life was just as simple as a yes or no question. Are you ready for the take? Yes. Are you sure you have your lines memorized? No? Then let's practice them again. It could be this easy. But nothing good ever comes out of something easy. Easy doesn't help you grow. It just _helps_ you get things done, but not necessarily in the best way possible.

"You want to put a label to our thing?" Kyungsoo asks, voice barely above a whisper. Jongdae tilts his head a little. "Or... do you want it to end–"

"I want to take you out on a date before taping begins," Jongdae says all in one breath. Kyungsoo gulps hard, loud and heavy, and Jongdae parts his lips to speak again. "I mean, a _real_ date where we go out for a movie or dinner with the intent of _actually_ going out. None of those incidental lunches in the same restaurant _with cast members_ and a shitload of footsies. Or maybe we can retain the footsies, but–" Jongdae shakes his head, then reaches for Kyungsoo's hands. Kyungsoo can feel the light tremble of Jongdae's fingers, the cool brush of its pads against Kyungsoo's skin, Jongdae's breath, hot and wet, on his skin as he inches even closer. The tips of their noses bump. If he closes his eyes, maybe he'll hear the sound of Jongdae's laboured breathing matching his own.

And once he opens them, Jongdae will be there to greet him with an amused look and say–

"–I don't want to wake up every morning wondering if you'd be weirded out by a 'good morning' text," Jongdae continues. He darts his tongue out, wetting his lips a little. It makes his lips look more red, breathes life into his mouth and to his words cracked up by the tremors of his voice. "I want to know what makes you happy or sad or what ticks you off. And what I've missed in all the years that we've been apart. I mean–" He heaves a sigh. "All my life, I've been in a rush to move from one project to another because I feel that the more I get attached to things, the more that they can hurt me. Focusing on comedy will bite me in the ass when I'm presented with a drama deal that I can't turn down. But then I can't keep running. I'm... tired."

"You're old," Kyungsoo whispers. He withdraws one of his hands from the lock of their fingers, then gives Jongdae's cheek a pinch. "You... don't have to run anymore. I won't go anywhere."

Jongdae laughs a little. "Didn't know you had it in you to be romantic," he teases, voice lilting as he ends. His eyelashes flutter as he closes his eyes and leans into the touch. "Yeah. Maybe I'm too old to be running around in circles so–" So Kyungsoo holds his breath. He can feel his throat tightening, can feel his pulse beating strongly at the back of his ears. He can feel Jongdae's pulse on his skin, can feel the warm fit of their hands and the thumping in Jongdae's chest. And he can feel that Jongdae feels _this_ in the subtle shift of his muscles, in the way Jongdae sucks in his bottom lip in between words and intakes of breath. "Will you? Go out with me, I mean. Do... couple stuff with me. We don't have to hold hands all the time if it grosses you out–"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. Here Jongdae is, stopping smack in front of him to look at his face longer than the usual. This is Jongdae after a long and torturous run, after walking for so many miles and not lingering long enough in his stops to drink water, not staying in one place to look around and admire the scenery. To _see_ things instead of glancing at them. This is Jongdae slowing down in front of him and stopping _for him_ , nobody else. So he pulls over, yells 'cut!' at the back of his mind to review this script of theirs with Jongdae one more time to make sure if they're on track. They don't have to say the exact lines in the text; knowing Jongdae, he'll find a way to spice things up, add an ad lib somewhere along the way. And Kyungsoo will let him. 

They can't screw this up. They won't. So Kyungsoo mutters, "I like hand-holding," pauses to pinch Jongdae's cheek another time. "The same way you like marshmallows."

Jongdae's eyes widen and a faint gasp escapes his lips. His cheeks flush, and his fingers grow cold. It pricks Kyungsoo's skin, sends a funny shiver down his spine. "You... remembered?"

"I'm just a shitty actor, not a shitty script-memorizer. And I have to know key points of... the script." Kyungsoo sucks in his bottom lip. "I have to do my job."

"Point," Jongdae says in agreement, then moves closer. "So, boss, will you? Will you let me take you out on gross dates and be my boyfriend?"

Kyungsoo hums. A corner of his mouth tugs up, just a tiny tug enough to reach his cheeks. Jongdae pokes his belly, then, and faint laughter escapes his lips. Then his mouth twists, a push and pull of a smile and a shit-eating grin settling on his lips. We're too old for this, he wants to say. They're thirty and too old to be going out on silly dates, too old to be fearing age-old uncertainties. They're too old for _this_ – still waiting things out, just watching and assessing instead of doing something. So Kyungsoo gulps hard, nods, and leans in to meet Jongdae's lips in a kiss. It surprises a gasp out of Jongdae, but soon the tight press of Jongdae's lips melts as he opens up, as he tilts his head back and allows Kyungsoo access. Kyungsoo sucks on his bottom lip, licks at the corners before claiming the rest of Jongdae's mouth. He can still taste whiskey and vodka and the tequila he so hates in Jongdae's mouth, but he doesn't mind. He can get drunk on this, on the slow-forming smile on Jongdae's lips, on the tiny packets of laughter that bubble on the corners of his mouth. He can get drunk on the way Jongdae curls his fingers in his shirt and tugs at it, pulling him closer to kiss his deeper, longer, harder.

"Aren't I too old to be called your boyfriend?" Kyungsoo whispers when they part. 

Jongdae looks at him through the slits of his bangs and pinches the tip of his nose. "You're never too old for me," he answers, pausing for a moment, then continues, "Manfriend, then." Then he leans in again, reclaiming Kyungsoo's mouth and tracing every inch of it with his tongue, memorizing the way Kyungsoo breathes in the open press of his mouth. Kyungsoo tilts his head back and Jongdae chases after him with his lips. If they're following the script, Kyungsoo knows what will happen next: Jongdae will nibble on his lower lip and elicit a giggle from him. Jongdae will pull away to look at him in the eye and tell him that he's crazy, he's weird, he's _cute_. And he'll just shake his head because what else is there to do? Jongdae has him memorized like the back of his hand, like a script he's been reading for _months_ , a scene he's been rehearsing for hours on end.

This part of the script, Kyungsoo wouldn't mind screwing up if it means having to kiss Jongdae again and again. So he gives Jongdae's bottom lip and gentle nip, sucks on Jongdae's top lip, giggles against the slide of their mouths when Jongdae lets out a tiny whimper. They are _the_ ad lib, the disruption to the script. They're the most hilarious romcom to ever hit the big screen. They are the next big hit. And they're the cheesiest movie Kyungsoo has ever had to work on.

If this is how the ending pans out all the time, then he won't mind. He can keep kissing Jongdae until his mouth feel sore and numb. He can keep pulling Jongdae closer to him until he can feel every shift of Jongdae's muscles. And he can keep trying to find the perfect words for _this_ and only end up losing them in the sweet allure of Jongdae's mouth. Zoom out, pan to the setting sun, fade to black.

ö

Kyungsoo hates a lot of things about red carpets. In no particular order: having to wear a tight bowtie and a suit that makes him look like a kid playing dress up. The sheer amount of people closing in on him when he walks down that red carpet. The photographers all around him and the blinding lights that burst with ever click of the shutter release. It isn't like the continuous studio lights they have on set, or even ambient daylight that give them time too adjust to the new brand of brightness. The flashes jump out at them and make them jump out of their skin. And the white lights are unflattering – they highlight the flaws instead of hiding them. They put everything that's undesirable on display.

"Hey, relax," comes Baekhyun's voice from behind. Kyungsoo looks over his shoulder at the same time that Baekhyun gives his arm a squeeze. "The lights won't eat you."

Chanyeol had texted him the same thing earlier, except in a nicer manner. Or just a less-Baekhyun manner. _break a leg, bud! you'll do great!! plus you look so cute in a suit kekeke so don't worry! you won't land on your ass on the red carpet. BUT IF YOU DO HEY INSTANT FAMEEE!_ Chanyeol had said, then rang him up after five minutes to say, "Look, this is your production. You did a great job with the film. There's nothing to fear." But it's not the prospect of the film being a flop that freaks him out. Critics will always try to find something to hate about every single thing. There will always be people who won't share his taste in executing scenes. Shit like that happens. It's not falling flat on his ass that worries him; it's being exposed out here that freaks him out. It's walking down that red carpet and the press shining all their white lights on him to show the worst possible side of him that he's afraid of. It's one of those ghosts that won't ever leave.

Baekhyun gives his shoulder one last squeeze before pulling away and stepping into the light. "You've got this!" he calls out, flashing two thumbs up before taking another step forward. Soon, the flashing lights wash Baekhyun out and blink Kyungsoo. He closes his eyes, then, until the flashing subsides, until he can no longer see bursts of light at the back of his eyelids.

"Hey," comes another voice, softer this time. A nudge and a pinch in the side, then, "You hate the red carpet, too?"

Kyungsoo opens his eyes and turns on his side. There Jongdae is, dressed in a crisp black suit that hangs from his shoulders nicely. His hair is slicked back and his eyes are lined with black. And his cheeks are a nice, light shade of pink. There's just enough color in his features to breathe life into him, but not enough to wash him out. He doesn't look like Jongdae right now; he looks like that alluring movie star named 'Chen' in his movie 'The Black Pearl'. Or maybe Junho when he attends his brother's, Junsu's, wedding in one of Junho's dream sequences in the film. He looks just as stunning as Jongdae could be, though. The small smile on his lips, the shy twist of his mouth can't be anyone else's.

"Hate's too strong a word," Kyungsoo mumbles. He inches closer and digs his hands into his pockets. "I'm here to watch the movie, not walk down the carpet."

"Or walk down the carpet with me," Jongdae says. He slides next to Kyungsoo. Their elbows bump, and Kyungsoo feels a surge of electricity crawl up his arm. It isn't numbing, but it's enough to stun him a little, to ease the tension in his nerves and make him shiver. "Take my hand?"

Kyungsoo takes a deep breath. He furrows his eyebrows and tilts his head to the side. There are at least twenty people from the press here, twenty people who they don't know beyond the usual hi's and hello's. And they're live, on air, this footage of the red carpet for the movie premiere being fed to different entertainment networks. If they hold hands here, in front of everyone and all those who are watching through their screens, they might get called out on it. Jongdae might start losing his offers, endorsements. It might be the end of Jongdae's career. He can't let that happen.

The light in Jongdae's eyes says, 'who the hell cares?' The smile on his lips says, 'I definitely don't.' "Are you sure?" Kyungsoo asks, nonetheless. "I mean, the press–"

"Can go suck it if they say anything bad about us holding hands while walking down the aisle. I mean the carpet." Jongdae laughs a little. He brushes his knuckles against the back of Kyungsoo's hand, and Kyungsoo's breath hitches. "You're scared and so am I. What do kids do when they're scared but still have to do that one thing that scares them?"

We're not kids anymore, Kyungsoo wants to say, but it makes sense – sometimes you need an ounce of youth to be able to figure things out. You need to break things down into bite-sized parts – scenes, not long footages – to be able to find that solution, the most simple solution ever, to make sense of the chaos. Then the memory of Jongdae rushing to his side hits him, Jongdae running to the park and holding out his hand so they can run away from the bullies, run to the beach and enjoy the sight of the setting sun.

"They laugh at the face of danger?" Kyungsoo replies.

Jongdae snorts. "You watch too much Disney."

Kyungsoo loosens his knuckles then reaches Jongdae's hand in his side with the pads of his fingers. He can feel Jongdae's muscles tense a little, then relax as soon as their hands find a nice fit. He can feel Jongdae's pulse against his palm, the steady, heavy beating against his skin. And he can feel Jongdae's light laughter through the link of their fingers and Jongdae says, "Ah, what the hell are we doing–" They take one step out of the darkness and into the light, closer to the press and away from their harbor. The cameras turn to them, flashes going off one by one, but Kyungsoo doesn't squint. He doesn't narrow his eyes to shield his vision from the blinding lights. Instead, he looks to his side, looks at Jongdae and into his eyes as they walk down the red carpet. The white lights expose them – the pimple beneath the thin layer of foundation on Jongdae's cheek, the tiny blemishes on Jongdae's forehead that his bangs cannot cover up anymore – but it doesn't wash Jongdae out. Instead, it sets Jongdae aglow, _aflame,_ the light in him bright enough to light up the whole street.

'Stop staring. _Smile,_ ' Jongdae mouths at him. He follows without a second thought, sticks to this script Jongdae has written for him and takes a deep breath before turning to the media with a grin.

Lights, camera, _action._

 

 

****

「after credits」

"We've noticed that you... haven't done romcom in a while," says someone from the press. The media person takes a deep breath, then continues, "Any chance you'd pick up a romcom script again soon?"

Jongdae looks around the room, scanning for familiar faces. The worst part of premieres is the press conference after, the part where media tries to stuff _their_ own words down the actors' throats in the hope that the actors will choke on them and spew them out without preamble. Jongdae doesn't mind, for the most part – occasionally, he'd humor the media and maybe flirt with his co-actor. He'd indulge them in their request and act out a part in the movie that he would've done differently if he only had his way. And he'd tell them about his new favorite food because of a life-changing experience while working on the film. More bullshit that makes the crowd swoon. You have to do that sometimes, for the sake of your career. Allow yourself to be controlled by media so that, in turn, you can control them in the future.

He blows at his bangs, but only succeeds in blowing air into his nose. He rubs the underside of his nose, instead. "Well, it _has_ been a while," he begins. "I... I don't know."

His gaze shifts to the back of the room when he sees Kyungsoo enter from the back door. He's just come from an interview with other people in the press. The bowtie he was complaining about earlier is now stuffed in the pocket of his coat. His suit still looks a bit too big on him, though, but Kyungsoo makes it work somehow. The coat hangs nicely from his shoulders and makes him look broad, look more like a celebrity than a director who prefers to work behind the scenes. The curl of his lips makes him look a bit too eager to know how Jongdae will handle the situation, how Jongdae will respond to the question. Kyungsoo _can_ be an actor, if he wanted to. His acting isn't as bad as he proclaims it is. With a bit of practice, he'll be able to capture the hearts of people in a blink of an eye.

Kyungsoo doesn't have to try too hard, Jongdae muses. He just has to look at people in the eye the way he pinned Jongdae in place with a heavy gaze, a subtle smile, a hint of amusement in the way he cocks his eyebrow a little. He doesn't have to try so much at all.

"It depends on the script and my co-actors," Jongdae amends, then. He clears his throat, then meets Kyungsoo's gaze. "Or the cast and crew in general since it's important that you know you're working with people who can bring out the best in you, but... the deciding factor is the director." He nods, then, and chuckles when he sees Kyungsoo's lips fall open into a tiny 'o'. "Yeah, definitely the director."

Kyungsoo tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed as he mouths 'huh' in Jongdae's general direction. So Jongdae waits – for Kyungsoo to walk over to where he is and say, 'no way in hell am I doing romcom,' for Kyungsoo to shake his head to reiterate that this isn't part of the contract. This isn't part of the script. But Kyungsoo could use a bit of ad lib in his life, something fresh and new. Something he won't see coming until it hits him square on the nose – a question on the curve of Jongdae's mouth that says, 'so, romcom?' So Jongdae holds his gaze until Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, until Kyungsoo shakes his head and shrugs as if saying, 'Whatever. Fine. Romcom, it is.'

"And who do you have in mind?" the person from the media asks.

Jongdae laughs a little, tiny puffs of air prickling the microphone in soft thuds. From a few feet away, Kyungsoo sticks out his tongue at him. He purses his lips and juts them out just a little, enough to warrant a light shake of the head from Kyungsoo, a blush, a wicked grin on Kyungsoo's lips. It tickles his insides, makes his stomach lurch. It makes him want to bolt from his seat and point at Kyungsoo to say, 'That guy, just him. I can't work with anyone else.'

"Well, he's... not just in my mind. He's in my heart, as well," Jongdae answers. The person from the media widens his eyes and motions to bring his mic closer to his lips. Jongdae pushes himself away from the table, then, and stands from his seat. There are a hundred people in this room calling out his name, asking for a clarification, a confirmation, but the noise is drowned out by the loud thumping in Jongdae's chest, the thundering pulse at the back of his ears. Kyungsoo's words floating in the wind when Kyungsoo mouths at him, 'You are awful. The worst.'

'And you're the best,' Jongdae mouths right back. He leans back into the microphone briefly then says, "He's right here." When he turns on his heel, the presses the back of his hand to his lips to keep himself from laughing. His manager will probably kill him, but Li Yin isn't as strict as she seems. If she ever decides to lecture him on his weird career decisions, he can just keep replaying Kyungsoo's voice in his head, a clip where he says, 'Yeah, romcom, whatever. As long as we do it together, it shouldn't be too bad.'

The image of Kyungsoo's wild smile burns brightly at the back of his eyelids. He holds onto that image like a lifeline. Kyungsoo is the best motion picture waiting to happen.

**Author's Note:**

> 1\. Kyungsoo wears headphones at work, but uses earphones for leisurely listening. Directors usually use headphones during shoots as headphones provide crisper sound with less noise.  
> 2\. Gonjiam Psychiatric Hospital is a real place that does exist in Gonjiam-eup. Some people took [a tour of the place](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NUfY0DDi1qY). Check it our if you're interested. :) You'll find there the location for the scene where Kyungsoo finds Jongdae at the rooftop.  
> 3\. Donghae-si is one of the smaller cities in Gangwon-do! One of the main sources of livelihood in the city is fishing. Moving on to Anyang-si, the playground that Kyungsoo mentions meeting Chanyeol at when he moved from Donghae-si to Anyang-si is real. It's part of the city's Art City project.  
> 4\. Here's a tiny playlist that I've made for the fic! I still owe you guys, especially jakeun, a porn scene, but that will come in the director's cut. For now, have a listening to [THIS](http://8tracks.com/dongsaengdeul/we-are-our-own-ghosts). :)


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